


Lightening in a Bottle

by mugsandpugs



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Come as Lube, Crying During Sex, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Relationship Study, Road Trips, Sex Toys, Sub Drop, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, sort of dom/sub anyway, they all switch they all have their moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: An anthology of kinky fuckery for my favorite poly Evo ship.





	1. Road Trip 1

"Do you dare me to run around the pool naked?" Pietro grinned at his two best childhood friends from where they lounged together on the queen sized bed, one of two that made up their motel room. They'd been driving in Lance's Jeep all day, trying to get from their hometown of Deerfield, Illinois to a town called Bayville, where Professor X was awaiting them to start their mutant training in time for the new school semester to begin, and had just checked into their room for the night.

Kitty, her long hair still damp from the shower, sat up with a scoff and an arched brow. "No! What the hell, Tro?" 

Lance rolled onto his side to watch, smirking. Though he and Pietro had only been going out for a few weeks now, just the sight of That smirk was enough to send Pietro's heart into overdrive. "Quit screwing around," he discouraged. "Come watch TV." 

"I can't believe you two are making me do this," Pietro snickered, shaking his head in disbelief as he prized the squealing, rusty window open and balmy late-summer air filled the room. Okay, so their accommodations weren't the nicest, but it was still nicer than they would have been able to afford on their own. Professor X was footing the bills of this road trip, and they were taking full advantage of it. They had probably been meant to get three _seperate_ motel rooms, but where was the fun in that? It was much better to save their money for valuable things, like pay-per-view television. 

"We aren't." 

"We _really_ aren't." 

"I guess I just have to do it, since you insisted so much. You two are really twisting my arm." Pietro gave them both a toothy grin and a waggle of his hips before, in a burst of mutant speed, flung himself from the window and ran vertically down the length of the four-story building, tossing his clothes back through the window after himself. 

The pool had technically closed at ten, but a few young adults were blatantly flouting the rules in the hot tub, kissing and fondling one another under the bubbly water. Pietro, naked as the day he was born, cackled loudly as he sped by and stole their cooler of drinks. 

The humans didn't know what hit them; they exclaimed in shock as their hair was knocked back from a sudden, violent gust of silvery wind. When they'd blinked a few times and saw that their drinks were gone, they let out a collective gasp of protest. Pietro, ignoring the "no running- caution!" signs that surrounded the pool, finished his fifth lap around and began his sixth. The partiers in the hot tub couldn't be sure, but they _swore_ they heard the sudden cyclone that swept through east Ohio _laugh._

Back in their motel room, Lance gave Kitty a slow, mischievous grin and climbed from the bed as the Digimon theme song played over the TV. "Dare me to lock the window?" 

Her blue eyes lit up and she nodded, matching his impish expression. It didn't take long. 

"Hey!" a hand slapped the pane of glass, and both teens burst into giggles as Pietro stared disbelievingly at them. "You _assholes!_ " 

The laws of gravity insisted he keep moving or fall from the building after pausing only long enough to give each of them the middle finger. Then he was gone. 

The silence that followed lasted longer than either of them expected- at least ten full seconds- and they exchanged an anticipating glance before they heard their locked motel room door begin to rattle. Another three seconds after that and Pietro was bursting into their room in his birthday suit, clutching a red drinks cooler in one hand, a nail file and a cuticle pic in the other- no doubt stolen from some hapless individual's manicure kit to pick their lock. 

"Alright, fuckers," Pietro growled, hands planted on his hips. Shrieking in mirth, Kitty clapped both her palms over her eyes, then peeped curiously between her fingers at her naked friend. Lance didn't even bother to avert his gaze. "Now you're in for it!" 

"Ooh, I'm _so scared,_ " Lance mocked, waggling all ten fingers in a ghostly way. "What are you gonna do, flash us to death?" 

"Nope." Pietro, quite the exhebitionist, swung himself crosslegged onto the dresser, blocking their view of the television, and reached into the icy cooler for a can of beer which he opened with a hiss. "I'm just going to drink all of this beer _by myself,_ and not let either of you have any." He took a smug sip. 

"You wasteful dicK! You can't even get drunk with your metabolism. All you're gonna get is a full bladder." 

Pietro's smile was quite toothy. He was fully aware of how he tortured his friends. When Lance reached to steal a beer anyway, Pietro pointedly moved the cooler out of his reach. When Kitty tried to sneak up on his other side, he held the red box over his lap instead. 

Kitty and Lance exchanged a glance. 

"Guess we'll have to find something else to do," Lance sighed. "Since we can't watch TV and our jerkass of a friend isn't sharing the beer." 

"But what?" Kitty's face was still pink from Pietro's flagrant nudity, but she was starting to get over it. 

"You could kiss," Pietro pointed out, smiling lewdly. "Give me a show." 

The two brunettes turned in unison to gawk at him. "What-" Lance started to say. 

"Oh, please," Pietro rolled his eyes. "You two have been eye-fucking since we started hanging out. _Five years ago._ Just because I rode the avalanche first doesn't mean _that's_ gone away." 

Lance looked a little guilty. "Tro, I wouldn't- you know I wouldn't cheat on you..." 

"Your nobility is noted, appreciated, and discarded. Monogamy is for people with longer attention spans. Go on. I like you both. Gimme some quality spank-bank material." He waggled both his eyebrows. "It's the least you could do, after so _rudely_ locking me outside. I'm pretty sure I mooned some nice old lady in the room across from ours. Not that she's any worse off for seeing _this_ majesty." 

"Does he _ever_ stop talking?" Kitty asked Lance, genuinely curious, before their situation began to catch up with her. For a moment, she felt a bit nervous. If this situation got out of hand, would Pietro drop it, or would he make it... weird? She felt a little weird, but she also felt excited, young, _reckless._. The cocktail of emotion was fizzing and bubbling quite a bit. 

"Has he ever since we _met_ him?" Lance snorted. "Pietro, Kitty doesn't want to kiss me. Cut it out." 

"When did I ever say _that?_ " Kitty asked. At Lance's surprised expression, Kitty reached for him, heart hammering in her chest. She was of the belief that one should always take the opportunity to seize what they wanted, and she had always had more-than-warm feelings for this boy. If his boyfriend really was okay with it, then... 

He was so tall that she had to stand on tip-toe to reach, and he still had to duck his face the last few inches to meet her lips, and then- _oh, soft. Lovely, lovely._ Her fingers slid through his long hair, and she couldn't help but to smile fondly. His mouth was generous and pliable, molding to hers as his big, _big_ hands crept around her back, holding her. She felt warm all over, forgetting that Pietro was even watching until he sat back with a creak of wooden dresser. 

She started to pull away, still tingling from the first kiss she'd ever shared with her best friend, when Lance groaned and pulled her back into his broad chest. "Kitty..." 

"Knew it." She didn't have to look at Pietro to hear the smirk in his sing-song voice. There was a hiss as he popped a second beer open and began chugging. 

If he said anything after that, it was lost in the haze. Lance had both arms around Kitty's waist now, and he was kissing her with a hunger borne from years of longing. He felt pleased when she gave as good as she got, half-climbing him in her haste to reach. With a snort of frustration, he gripped her waist and tugged, meaning clear. She jumped, snapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. _Much_ better. 

He ran his hands down her back and, after a moment of shyness- this was his _friend,_ after all. He didn't want to ruin their easy friendship- he cautiously palmed her small ass through her pajama bottoms. She whined into his hungry mouth. 

Pietro wolf-whistled. "Alvers doesn't beat around the bush," he cheered. "Go for the _gold,_ man." 

Kitty broke away from the kiss to glare at him. "Are you going to add sports commentary to everything we do?" 

"As opposed to what, princess?" 

"Well, for starters, putting that obnoxious mouth of yours to better use." 

Lance, still holding her off the ground, choked and coughed. When she turned to look at him, he was gazing adoringly up at her. "Have I mentioned recently that I love you?" he asked. He'd meant to sound playful, but the words left him too softly to be anything but genuine. 

Her smile was just as warm as she gently stroked his face, her thumb running over his swollen lip. "I love you, too..." 

He gazed up at her another moment before looking over at his boyfriend. For the first time that night, his expression had morphed from lewd interest to... worry. Was he feeling left out; concerned that he might not fit into this moment of his own causing? Lance felt a pang of raw affection in his chest. _Oh, Tro._ Of course he would be insecure. Of course he wouldn't want either of them to see it. 

"C'mere," he ordered, jerking his chin. 

"I don't-" Pietro hesitated only a moment. Then Kitty, too, locked her eyes on him. She understood immediately. 

"Pietro." 

He meekly obeyed, coming to stand toe-to-toe with his boyfriend. 

Gently, Lance handed Kitty down to him. He took her, and she immediately wound her arms around his neck instead. 

"I'm gonna kiss you now, loudmouth," she warned Pietro. When his eyes widened, she brushed her lips over his, light as a feather. He blinked at her, shocked, and the others were delighted to see a pink flush bloom over his cheeks. Kitty leaned in to nuzzle her nose into one of those cheeks with great affection. 

Then Lance was there, pulling them both to him, and Kitty moved so that the boyfriends could kiss, warm and slow and passionate. Being caught in the middle had her a little breathless. She’d seen them kiss before, but had never really allowed herself to watch, feeling as though she were intruding. 

In hindsight, the three had spent most of their youth alternatively having crushes on or being jealous of one another. This really was the most obvious solution. Why hadn’t any of them considered it before? Maybe ‘normal’ people didn’t love this way, but what did it matter? Since when had they ever been ‘normal’? 

“Maybe,” Pietro panted. “Maybe we should move to the—” he glanced at the bed. 

”Is it big enough?” Kitty asked. 

Lance clenched his fist in concentration. A moment of charged effort later, the room rumbled around them, and the swaying floor sent one queen-sized bed crashing into another, effectively creating a single bed of twice the size. Pietro _laughed._

Then he took two steps back, Kitty still in his arms, and set her gently down before crawling onto the bed after her. 

“You’re a virgin, right Pryde?” he asked, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if she was being made fun of. 

“So what if I am?” As far as she was aware, they’d only ever been with each other, too. Not that she knew everything that went on with them. They left her out of things more often than not, believing her to be too soft to handle the harsh realities of the world they’d each grown up in. She knew they were just being protective, but sometimes it stung a little. She knew she was privileged, sheltered in ways they weren’t, but that didn’t make her a fool who couldn’t handle the truth. 

To her surprise, Pietro looked chagrined. “I wasn’t teasing, I promise,” he insisted. “I just… we should make it special. Right?” 

“I feel like having my first time with my two best friends is already pretty special,” she said truthfully. “I trust you two. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Before they could start acting like she was some fragile thing they had to protect from themselves or whatever, she took Pietro’s shoulders in her hands, pulling him onto her like a blanket. She kissed him sharply, drawing his lip back with her teeth the way she’d seen Lance do. The fact that he was very naked became apparent as she felt his erection against her hip. 

“Try scratching his back,” Lance encouraged, and there was a creak of bedsprings as he climbed onto the bed next to them, watching. “He loves it.” 

Experimentally, Kitty did as directed, planting her nails just above his hips and pressing lightly, dragging upwards. He let out a muffled scream, his mouth falling open against hers, and he _ground his hips_ into hers, then tilted his head to the side to pant. 

“Oh!” Kitty exclaimed, looking in surprise at Lance, who smirked and reached to trail soothing fingertips over the now raised lines of Pietro’s skin. “You weren’t kidding.” 

“Guys,” Pietro’s eyes looked a bit hazy as he whined. “That’s- that’s not fair. Two against one?” 

“You like it.” Lance seemed quite pleased, quite confident with the whole situation. “You’ve got all the attention you want now, isn’t that right?” 

“More. Please.” 

Kitty was surprised when Pietro tucked his face into her neck. Since when did _he_ ever get so shy, so submissive, about anything? Was this what he was like in bed? 

Why was the thought of having power over Pietro so _appealing?_

She touched his hips again, then lower, reaching around to cup his ass. He really did have a nice butt, though she’d never say so. His ego was big enough already. She kneaded her fingers into his soft skin, more a massage than anything, and he rolled his hips slowly between her spread legs. 

A spark of anxiety caused her to still when she felt his erection stroke the seam of her now-wet pajama shorts. It wasn’t as though it didn’t feel good, but a man’s weight on her was suddenly a _lot._ Did she really want where it looked like this was going? 

“Kitty, you okay?” Lance asked, stilling Pietro with a hand to his back. Immediately, Pietro froze, his face darting up to read her expression. Without a word he rose to his knees, permitting her to slide out from under him. The relief was immense, and her trust in them was renewed. 

They knew her. They loved her. She was safe. 

“Thanks, guys,” she smiled. 

“What _do_ you want, then, pipsqueak?” Pietro was looking a bit worried, as though nervous he’d done something wrong. To reassure him, she bent and pressed her lips to his shoulder. 

Here, Kitty was at a loss. Her imagination, late at night, with a hand in her panties, had lead her to all sorts of places, but now faced with the real thing, she found she couldn’t quite decide. “I don’t know,” she admitted, a bit embarrassed. “I’m new; sorry. Any ideas?” 

“I want to eat you out,” Lance said, so quickly that they both looked at him. Now it was his turn to flush. Clearly, he’d been thinking about it for some time. “If, uh. If that’s okay.” 

Through the flush of arousal and embarrassment, Kitty considered. It certainly sounded… appealing… Forget _warm_ all over; she now felt overheated, her panties drenched. She kept sneaking peeks at Lance’s generous mouth, his wide nose… 

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice higher, breathier than she was used to hearing from herself. “I want that. Please.” 

Lance licked his lips. 

They arranged themselves again. It took some maneuvering, which mostly meant Kitty bossily telling everyone where to be until she felt satisfied. Pietro and his ever-growing need to be touched, always, sat with his back against the wall, Kitty in his lap with her back to his chest. 

Lance, watching them with eyes as dark as midnight, knelt at the foot of the bed before them and reached to kiss his boyfriend while running calloused hands down Kitty’s bare arms. He stopped at her waist, then slowly slid his thumbs under the hem of her tank top, inching it upwards. At the sensation of a hand pressing flat to her bare belly, Kitty moaned loudly enough to surprise the two apart. 

“Sensitive?” Lance asked, flexing his fingers. “ _Yeah,_ ” she gasped in response, her eyes falling shut, her head tipping back on Pietro’s shoulders. “Don’t stop.” 

Looking intrigued, he rubbed a slow circle over her stomach. It was so _hot_ that she moaned again, panting into Pietro’s ear. 

“Goddamn,” Lance rumbled, looking very pleased. “Do you _hear_ her? Think I could make her cum just from this?” He let his nails scrape low on her belly and her hips bucked. 

“Lance, _please!_ ” Kitty whined, losing her sense of decorum. Her nails bit into Pietro’s thighs, and he hissed softly. She almost sobbed when he bent to touch his lips to her naval, dragging teeth down to catch in the hem of her shorts. 

“Careful,” Lance murmured, sounding a little dark and very in control. “The neighbors… Tro, give her your fingers.” 

Pietro did as directed, slipping three fingers from his left hand into her mouth. She sucked them to hide her whimpers as Lance tugged her shorts over her hips and down her legs, setting them aside. He took a long moment to look her over before doing the same with her plain cotton panties, near transparent from arousal. Wet pussy now exposed to the cool air, Kitty gave a little shiver. 

“You are so beautiful,” Lance murmured, looking up at her from between her thighs with his chocolate-warm eyes. In that moment, she thought her heart might burst. “I haven’t done this before,” he added, “So let me know if I’m doing good.” 

“He means it,” Pietro stage-whispered into her ear. “Tell him when he’s a good boy.”

Lance growled playfully at him before lowering his head to press his lips softly against her- down there. Kitty was still having difficulty getting over the embarrassment of the whole thing. If she'd known this was happening, she'd have... what? Spent too much time freaking out over whether to shave or not? Well, she hadn't, and Lance didn't seem to mind, so maybe it was okay. 

He kissed her again, more firmly this time, and then ran his tongue experimentally over her seam. It... She was supposed to feel something, right? 

Lance used two fingers to spread her folds open, and then just looked at her. The embarrassment was mounting. 

"Lance, I know you watch porn," she scolded, face reddening. "I'm not some weird science experiment. Just put your mouth on me!" 

Behind her, Pietro _laughed._ "That's our Kitty." 

It felt good to hear him say it like that- like she was one of the boys' club they always seemed to have. Any other time, she might have appreciated it more, but she was distracted now by Lance growling again and closing his mouth over her cunt, his tongue flickering like lightening over her, down to up, and catching against her clit. She hissed between her teeth. 

"Do that again?" she encouraged, when Lance's eyes flicked to hers. He obliged, then pulled back, pressing his thumb to the sensitive organ and rotating faintly until she cooed in encouragement, hands reaching to tug his hair. He smiled and flickered his tongue inside her. 

"Oh!" _That_ was a new sensation. 

With Kitty's assistance, the three found a groove that _worked._ Lance's tongue wasn't long or thick enough, but his long fingers crooking inside her alongside it was enough to make her very blood seem to sing. She pulsed uncontrollably around him, moaning, _wanting,_ and finally he got his pressure on her clit _just right_ and her legs felt positively wobbly and out of control as she truly started to lose herself. 

She almost didn't notice when Pietro pulled her tank top over her head, exposing her small breasts to the air, but Lance certainly did. His eyes watched hungrily as Pietro took her breasts in his hands, massaging them, tugging her nipples. She felt Lance's moan against her, vibrating her until pleasure caused black spots to dance in front of her vision. When Pietro's hands slipped lower, rubbing circular motions over her belly, it was just on the right side of 'too much'. _Pressure, pressure_ , everywhere; even with the fingers in her mouth she couldn't silence herself. Grunts and coos and whines, her feet pressed flat to the bed to force her hips higher against Lance's face... 

"I'm gonna-" she warned, and she felt Pietro smile against the back of her ear. 

"Cum all over his face, baby," he encouraged, and dug his nails harshly into her belly. She felt as though she'd been ripped apart by white-hot light as she orgasmed hard- harder than she ever had before, tethered to earth only by the two boys she trusted most in the world. When she returned to her senses, Lance was still rasping gentle licks over her cunt while Pietro held her tight. 

"You're shaking," he murmured. She was; rocked all over by aftershocks. She couldn't seem to stop. 

"Lance," she panted. "Lance, it's too much-" the feeling of his tongue still touching her oversensitive clit was like a raw jolt of lightening, and she reached a shaky hand to push him back. She was still trapped in an almost reverent state of awe as they oh-so-gently maneuvered her off of Pietro and to the pile of pillows on the edge of the bed, each dropping a kiss onto her face as they did so. 

"Fuck, Pryde; that was hot," Pietro admitted, a little giddily. "Did you mean to scream _my_ name?" 

Had she? She couldn't even remember. She watched in a daze as Pietro reached between her thighs, using three fingers to gather her dripping slickness. He then reached between his _own_ legs and- 

Lance _moaned,_ breathing hard just watching the show. "Maximoff, that is _filthy,_ " he growled. Kitty couldn't tell if he was admiring or admonishing, but Pietro looked savagely pleased just the same. She wondered if she should feel used, but she was too fascinated by watching Pietro finger himself open, watching Lance go from tenderly giving to hungrily _wanting_ in the span of a few seconds. 

When he managed to tear his eyes away from the tantalizing sight, he quickly began ripping his own clothing off until he was as naked as the two on the bed. Her eyes were drawn to his cock; longer than Pietro's, and he, like Kitty, was unshaven. The two boys were uncircumsized, she observed; they were different than what she usually saw online. The urge to touch them, to explore, grew, but she was still too shaky to do much but watch. 

Gone was Lance's gentleness. He knocked Pietro back onto the bed, taking satisfaction in his own strength. Pietro bounced against the mattress, spreading his legs wantonly. He knew what was coming. They'd done this before; many times, but Kitty watching added a new flavor to it. Pietro liked to show off, to be admired, and Lance liked being seen taking care of what belonged to him. _See? See how good of a mate I am? I provide. I pleasure. I am Good._

Odd, the uncomplicated yet strong feelings that rose in times such as these. If only the rest of the time, things could be so simply black-and-white as they were now. 

Pietro gave Kitty a slow, filthy grin as his legs were pushed up almost into his chest- flexible bastard- and Lance reached to grab onto his cock, giving it a few rough strokes in preparation before sliding inside his boyfriend. He'd really stretched himself good and open with Kitty's slick- just the memory was enough to make Lance's cock twitch in arousal- and there was little resistance as Lance slowly began to fuck his boyfriend. 

"That all you got?" Pietro goaded, bratty as ever and smirking up at him. "I barely feel it. Try harder, why don't you?" 

Lance _snarled._ Pietro always managed to push his buttons... 

Kitty squeaked in some alarm as Lance began pounding Pietro in punishing earnest, but Pietro was laughing between gasps, his legs spreading wide, taking all of Lance that he could. His hips rose to meet Lance's, and he drove the points of his heels into Lance's back, urging. His motormouth was on full-flux now even as his fingernails scrabbled for purchase in Lance's back. He babbled filthy things, encouraging things, even a few loving things. Peppered throughout were the words of praise Lance so loved to hear; _feel so good_ and _nobody does me better._

Lance, half mindless in drive now, rutted into his boyfriend, angling his hips to hit the place that had Pietro hissing, shoulders rolling, back arching. He never once lost awareness of Kitty's fascinated eyes focused on the procedures. When he glanced her way, she'd even half-sat up, cocking her head, to see better. The second or third time Pietro's head smacked the headboard from the force of Lance's thrusts, she went to move a pillow behind his head, protecting him. Pietro was too far gone to notice. 

"Kitty..." Pietro's voice broke through the lust-driven haze of Lance's mind. "Kitty, please..." 

Kitty took Pietro's outstretched hand without question, squeezing it. He looked back and fourth between the girl and his boyfriend with huge blue eyes that would have looked teary and innocent, were Lance not balls-deep inside his gorgeous ass. It was an odd sort of moment; the eye of the storm. 

"You gonna cum for him?" Kitty asked, still holding Pietro's hand in hers. Her tone was just edging on patronizing, and Pietro's submissive streak ate it right up. "Does Lance make you feel good?" 

If she'd had the confidence to call him something along the vein of 'you little slut' just then, Lance thought he might have jizzed himself on the spot. Maybe one day they'd get there. 

Pietro sobbed, nodding. Kitty bent to kiss his forehead. If Lance had had misapprehensions on how well she might fit into the strange puzzle they made, they were soothed now. She understood exactly what Pietro needed. 

"Go on, sweetheart," she encouraged softly, sweetly. "It's okay to cum. I want to watch you." 

Lance wrapped a hand around Pietro's lovely cock, perfectly proportioned for his body and curved just-so to to the right. It took only a few strokes for him to be shooting in Lance's hand, back bowed, head falling back. Kitty trailed appreciative fingers over his delicate throat as he coated his own belly and Lance's chest with creamy ropes of fluid, pulsing again and again until he was spent. 

Lance always tried to hold off orgasm until Pietro had always finished, not to be a gentlemen, but because pounding into him when he was on just the wrong side of oversensitive sent a savage thrill through Lance. Watching him become whiny and squirmy at the end of Lance's cock, all fucked out and exhausted with his cock softening against his belly... 

Well. Let a guy have a _few_ nice things in life, right? 

He gripped Pietro up by the hips, hoisting his lower body the bed entirely as he drove into him. Kitty used her thumbs to brush the tears from Pietro's eyes, kissing him softly to counterbalance the brutality at the foot of the bed. Lance didn't consider himself a betting man, but he suspected that Kitty was getting off on this almost as much as he was. His suspicions were confirmed when she slipped her free hand between her own thighs. 

The thought of Kitty fingering herself open for them was just too much. Lance came with a groan, emptying himself in spurts inside his boyfriend and falling onto his elbows to pant for breath, his muscled back shuddering as he attempted to compose himself.

Pietro was a wreck. He was gasping, tears still pouring from his eyes as they did whenever things became very intense with Lance. It had scared Lance the first time it'd happened, leaving him wondering if he'd hurt Pietro- physically or emotionally. He'd come to understand the boy just became overwhelmed at times, and needed to be held and reassured afterwards. It was something they didn't really talk about much outside of the bedroom, but as long as Pietro was okay with it... 

He guiltily wondered how to explain it to Kitty now, then saw that he needn't have worried. She didn't look at all freaked out as she pulled Pietro's upper body into her lap, stroking his hair. He heard some of the things she murmured- _beautiful boy,_ and, _my sweet friend,_ and, _thank you for making my first time so special._

Pietro, still raw and needy, rolled onto his side and reached a curious hand between Kitty's legs, his cheek resting on her thigh. After a moment's consideration, she spread her legs for him, allowing him to touch her. 

Lance, already feeling the haze of a post-orgasm nap coming on, stretched out on the bed to watch. Whatever was happening between his two lovers was odd, to say the least, in a sweet sort of way. It was sexual only in that it was a sex _act,_ Pietro's palm grinding slow circles over Kitty's cunt, to which she matched with a rolling of her hips. She had both palms braced on the bed now, her head tipped back, her tousled hair tumbling all around her. With her bare breasts drawing Lance's eyes, she looked gorgeous, like something out of a Renaissance painting. 

But there was something innocent in this act, too; sweet in intention. Pietro needed to make someone feel good just then, and Kitty accepted it because she loved Pietro. It took several long minutes for Kitty to orgasm again, her hips stuttering, and her hoarse moan was low and soft. Pietro smiled sleepily against her thigh, very pleased. 

Then she slumped, suddenly drained to exhaustion. 

With the last of his strength, Lance hauled first Pietro, and then Kitty in a more convenient position to be held, mashing his chest against his boyfriend's back and then clasping Kitty's shoulders. Kitty surprised them all by phasing the three of them under the first few layers of sheets and blanket on the bed until they were covered, and Lance laughed at the lazy genius of it. Why bother to get off the bed and fluff out the blankets when one had a Kitty Pryde around? 

He wasn't one for talking much after sex, but as the leader, he knew he should say something. 

"That was good," he remarked. The other two murmured sleepy assent. No doubt they'd wake itchy and sticky and in need of a shower, but for now... "Is everyone cool? Like. We can talk more tomorrow, but. Just. No regrets?" 

"No regrets," Kitty yawned, snuggling into Pietro's chest and giving Lance's hand a squeeze. "Love you." 

_Oh..._

"Me too, pipsqueak, now shh," Pietro, the hypocrite, chided. 

"Yeah, same, of course," Lance said, trying to sound normal, though his heart had kicked up a few notches at the admision. It was only when he was sure the other two had drifted into a doze that he allowed himself to smile fully. The two people he loved most in the world loved and wanted him in return; what more could he ask for in life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I back on my bullshit with this pairing that very few people ship? You betcha. Sometimes fanfic is allowed to be self indulgent, alright?
> 
> Chapter 1 and 2 of this anthology are an AU for my Lietro fic, 'Mix Tape'. If you've read that fic, awesome! If not, you don't have to, just know that it's nothing like this.


	2. Road Trip 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro's acting pretty weird after their night together.

The blinds over the window in their motel room weren't the most effective. Lance grumbled in dismay when morning sunlight pierced his eyelids. He'd've happily slept til noon were it not for that pesky intrusion.

Still, though. Waking with a naked Kitty Pryde snuggled against his back was an unexpected bonus he wasn't going to be complaining about anytime soon.

"Mpfhhh. Hi," he mumbled, when his shifting around caused her brow to furrow before her sleepy blue eyes fluttered open. He felt a brief pang of worry that she might be having second thoughts after all, but after a moment's surprised consideration, she offered him a brilliant smile.

"Hey yourself, beautiful." She sat up and stretched, and he couldn't help but stare at the lovely girl. But-

"Where's Tro?"

She was right. A quick survey of their room showed no Quicksilver to be found. That in itself wasn't unusual; the boy didn't sleep much and wasn't one for idle cuddling. He didn't have the attention span for it. But he couldn't have gone far- well, he could have. Lance hoped he hadn't- as they were travelling together.

"Bet you a blowjob he's downstairs eating breakfast." It was a risky bet to make. They hadn't really discussed what they'd done the night before, hadn't really landed everybody on the same page. For all Lance knew, it was a one-time thing, though he hoped it wasn't. Last night had been... _Dynamite._ They worked so well together... He was testing the waters, and he knew it.

She knew it, too, because her gaze on his face sharpened for a moment. Her hair was well and truly fucked; wild bedhead all over the place. She watched him for so long that that same worry began to return. Then she cocked her head, playful once more. "Yeah, I'll take that bet."

His heart fluttered. Cautiously, he reached to trail a gentle finger down her arm, and she hummed, leaning into the touch.

"I liked us last night," he said, and slipped his hand into hers, tugging. She allowed herself to be pulled against him, chest to chest- she was so _soft_ \- and he heard her voice rumble like a cat's purr as he nosed at her throat.

"I liked it too," she said, carding her fingers through his hair. "You felt amazing. You made me so happy."

Lance drank in the praise like a blossom would devour sunlight. He'd always been weak for it. "Yeah? How are you feeling now?"

She considered. "My belly kinda hurts, like I've done a ton of situps."

She had been sitting up, clinging his face between her thighs. The memory made him grin, and his hand wandered to the sensitive belly in question, palming it in a way he now knew made her gasp and squirm. As she did, he wriggled a thigh between hers, rocking up against her heat, and suddenly her gasp lowered in volume.

"Should we be doing this without Tro?" was her first question, and Lance groaned, burying his face in his pillow.

No. Not without discussing the terms and conditions of their... whatever. Lance loved Kitty, but he loved Pietro too, and Pietro was his proper boyfriend. They'd left too many things unresolved, and the potential for hurt feelings was high. Kitty was right, but Lance's morning wood didn't like to be reminded of it. She was so _good._ He didn't always want to be good.

She kissed his shoulder softly. "I'm gonna shower," she whispered, adding, "Love you," before slipping out of bed.

* * *

They found Pietro in the breakfast nook of the motel, eating his way through a complimentary stack of bagels and two bowls of scrambled eggs. His manners were impeccable, but the other hotel patrons were eyeing the slim boy putting away an obscene amount of food with mixed admiration and horror.  _ Don't alert the humans, indeed. _

He also looked... Frosty. There was no other word for it.  _ Uh-oh,  _ Kitty thought, wondering what had set him off. Was he having regrets after all?

She tried to give the back of Pietro's neck a reassuring squeeze as she passed him to pour a bowl of cereal, but he ducked away from her hand, scowling.

_ Oh, boy. _

Lance gave her a reassuring smile, so she tried to relax. If Lance wasn't worried, then she wouldn't worry either.  _ He can't be mad at me,  _ she tried to reason with herself.  _ It was  _ his _ idea _ ...

The thing was, sometimes with Pietro it was hard to tell.

They ate quickly before checking out of the motel, squeezing themselves and their things back into the cramped Jeep.

Before Kitty could resume her post in the back seat- it only made sense; she was the smallest of the trio and could fit between their luggage the easiest- Pietro claimed the space for himself.

His expression brokered no room for argument and, when Kitty was still trying to work out how to strike up a conversation with him, he reached into Lance's bag and pulled out a Walkman, isolating him from the conversation with music. She sat uncertainty in the front seat, unfolding the map in her lap and adjusting her sunglasses as Lance set them up for another long day of driving. 

"Hey," he nudged her. "Cheer up. Shotgun means you're the DJ." 

She beamed, working the radio dials as they made for the highway, trying to find a station that worked in this unfamiliar city. 

She was glad they'd opted to drive instead of taking Professor Xavier's jet. Though it had made their journey days longer, it also made her feel easier about the whole situation. She was excited, but she was also nervous about meeting a whole schoolful of mutants like her. For as long as she could remember, it had just been the three of them that could do strange things... And they'd be trained by the best of the best. 

Plus, she liked having this time with her childhood friends. It felt like a milestone in their relationship, even without the sex.

They stopped at a roadside stop for lunch. Pietro attempted to climb from the backseat and stalk ahead of the two, but Lance reached him first, catching his boyfriend in a headlock and moving to ruffle his hair. 

"Cut it out," Pietro pushed him away. "Tiny town like this? You really want to dangle the damn rainbow flag here?" 

Lance scowled, stung, but released him. "Well I wasn't trying to stuff my tongue down your throat; jeez. Someone's in a mood." 

Pietro bristled, a silver cat arching its back at a big, loping dog. Kitty had been privy to enough of their spats to sense one in the air. 

"Food!" she said. "Feed me now before I starve to death." 

And on the day went. Pietro was a moody person; it was just a fact of life. But he seemed to be especially sour now, and as the sun travelled further and further west, Kitty was truly beginning to fear that she'd messed something up when she agreed to play his game. She'd seen how insecure he'd felt at her and Lance kissing. Had she gone and exacerbated an old wound? 

As a child, she'd often found herself daydreaming of Lance one day asking her out, of them getting married and having 2.5 children and a white picket fence and a floppy-eared dog. But those were a little girl's dreams of her best friend, and she'd grown out of them when they hit teen years and it became pretty clear who Lance really had eyes for. She'd been jealous, sure, but she was Kitty Pryde: she bounced back. 

Last night really had thrown a wrench into everything. If she weren't so distracted by Pietro's sulky behavior, she'd probably still be freaking out over all that had happened. Trust Pietro to steal the limelight from the loss of her own virginity. 

Dusk was settling as they crossed the 'Welcome to Pennsylvania!' state sign and drove another thirty miles or so until they reached the second motel marked on their map. This was their last night before taking the final stretch into New York tomorrow and started their lives as mutants-in-training. 

They checked into their hotel and then Kitty excitedly drew Lance in to discuss possible evening plans around Pennsylvania; of things they might have time to do and see before they had to return for sleep. 

Pietro watched the two of them sat on the bed, their heads bowed together over pamphlets, their long dark hair touching as they discussed in quiet, murmuring voices, and that same cocktail of stress and inadequacy that he'd woken up with that morning intensified. He'd woken with Lance nestled against his back and Kitty tucked under his chin, happy and content as could be, but then the doubts had started creeping in. 

_They'll leave you._

_Now that they both have what they_ really _want, what do they need you for?_

_Just do them a favor and quit while you're ahead. It's all downhill from here._

The two of them were so easy together. Easy touches, easy laughter, easy affection. Neither of them was like Pietro, prickly as a cactus and moody as a cat. He knew he was difficult and hard to love. He'd been told he was so his entire life. And just because neither of them had ever said it, didn't mean they didn't secretly feel it. They _wanted_ to get rid of him, especially after how weird he'd been last night. Had either of them burst into tears after sex? Of course not!

Maybe he was just meant to be alone.

"Don't forget you owe me a blowjob," Lance said oh-so-casually, drawing both Kitty and Pietro's attention. Kitty rolled her eyes, then glanced over Lance's shoulder at Pietro's watching face. He quickly ducked his head and busied himself with his backpack. 

"Actually," she said, in a tone meant to address both of them. "Yeah, were we uh. Ever gonna talk about that stuff?" 

Might as well bite the bullet now. Pietro smiled brightly at the both of them, imagining beams of light bouncing off his even white teeth and striking them both dead where they stood. "Hey, you two crazy kids knock yourselves out," he said dismissively, trying to inject all the worldly devil-may-care attitude in the world. "I'm pretty tired so I think I'm just gonna get some sle-"

"Pietro, what's wrong?" Lance's voice cut through his internal self-bereavement, chasing the fog from his head as he always did with his soft brown eyes. "We've talked about this, remember? I ain't a mind-reader. Is it Kitty?" 

This didn't feel like the kind of conversation they should be having in _front_ of Kitty, but as she was involved, it wouldn't' be fair to send her away. Maybe Pietro didn't want to be fair. Maybe he didn't want to be having this conversation at all. He considered brushing the question off again, but... 

He sighed. "I feel... weird." 

They waited for him continue. When he didn't, Kitty grinned. "Is that it? Man, I feel weird _all_ the time. Especially today. I slept with my two best friends, and I liked it. I keep thinking about it, how I want to do it again sometime but how I don't know if they'd be cool with that." 

_Huh?_

"Yeah, me too," Lance smiled at Kitty, relieved she'd been the one to put it into words. "That was hot as hell. The two people I'm most into, together? Getting to make both of you feel good? It was like a dream come true. I can't stop thinking about all the stuff I _want_ to do with you guys. Not just sex stuff, either. I want... I want you both. All the time. Is that something I can ask for?" 

They both looked expectantly at Pietro, who struggled for words. He felt backed into a corner. He felt... _Scared._

He'd been called a coward many a time in his life. It was true; self preservation was his highest instinct, and this conversation was veering rapidly towards "Things that Might Hurt" territory. Were they just patronizing him? If they weren't tired of him now, what would happen when they became so? 

Logically he knew that if they'd been friends for this long, the likelihood of that happening was low. Their relationship was changing- evolving- not ending. But there was so much at stake here. 

"I don't _know,_ " he said finally. "What are you putting it all on me for? Am I the... am I the gatekeeper? _Yes young mutants, I bestow upon you Permission to date and fuck! Go forth! Be wild!_ " He attempted to make a joke out of it with his tone, but his eyes gave him way. 

He felt like such a buzzkill when the two exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. He should just go with it. _Sure, totally, guys! It's rad!_ He didn't _know_ if it was 'rad.' He didn't feel 'rad.' He didn't feel much of anything except stressed and half panicked, the surety of oncoming abandonment rising. 

Kitty slid to the end of the bed to reach him. He looked at her a little wild-eyed, hoping she could help. Hoping she might be able to fix the tumalt inside of him before it swallowed him whole. When she reached for his hands, he allowed her to take them. 

"True or false," she said. "Pietro likes Lance." 

He blinked, startled. "Uh. True." 

"True or false: Pietro likes Kitty?" 

"True..." Where was she going with this? 

"True or false: Lance likes Pietro?" 

Well, how was he supposed to know that?! It was like Lance always said: _I'm not a mindreader!_

Lance's face looked truly saddened when he answered for him. "Tro, _true._ I'm... of course it's true. Why would you..." 

"And Kitty likes Pietro," Kitty finished decisively. "See? It can be easy as that. Next round of questions. True or false: Pietro wants to date Lance?" 

And so it went. With each question, Pietro internally relaxed a little more. Of course breaking problems down into smaller components helped him feel more in control, but it was easy to forget that when he felt on the edge of panic. Soon, he was jibing and turning the questions back onto Kitty. She took the good-natured ribbing in stride. Despite any lingering awkwardness, they layered out a smooth foundation and began to build on it. 

Kitty turned to Lance about halfway through. "I could use some input now, you know," she said. "Are you letting me do all this myself cuz I'm the _girl,_ or..." 

He smiled sheepishly and made more of an effort to contribute in the discussion, and just like that, Pietro felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It really could be this easy. They really did see him as worth the effort. 

He felt like such an ass for doubting them. 

He waited for a gap in the conversation to tug Lance in by the neck of his t-shirt and kiss him. Lance accepted it without hesitation, hands falling enthusiastically to Pietro's waist to pull him into Lance's lap as though he'd been waiting for this all along. Pietro was warmed by that intoxicating feeling of being _wanted._ It never grew old.

He kissed Lance, long and slow, enjoying the faint brush of stubble against his cheeks, his hands on Lance's shoulders for balance when the older boy trailed sloppy kisses from his chin across his jaw.

Lance, predictably, sank onto his back with Pietro still astride him within moments, and Kitty let out a disbelieving scoff. "What, that's it? One moment we're getting somewhere emotionally and now it's back to seeing who can lick the other's tonsils the fastest?" 

"Maybe you talk too much," Pietro jibed, and then let out a breathy gasp as Lance's teeth found his neck. Now Kitty really did snort. 

"Oh, that is _too_ much, coming from you. What happened to reasonable discussion about what our relationship is now?" 

Lance released Pietro's throat to state mildly, "I mean, you don't _have_ to have clothes on for a conversation." He smiled at Kitty, reaching to tug the hem of her t-shirt meaningfully. "I was always better with hands-on learning. 

She flushed, pink and pleased, before swatting his hand away. "I mean it, you two. There's still a lot we haven't worked out. We're never going to get anywhere if we stop every fifteen seconds for--" 

Lance's hand pressed flat to her belly, and the rest of her sentence was drowned out by a shuddery gasp as long fingers lightly stroked her warm skin. "Oh," she said. "Oh, that is _not_ fair." 

Pietro's eyes glittered mischievously. He would have laughed had Lance's large hand not caught the back of his head, turning him back for another spine-rolling, toe-curling kiss. He braced his hands on the bed on either side of Lance's head and spread his legs, rolling his hips until Lance's head fell back with a groan, his hand on Kitty's belly falling flat. "Fuck, Tro." 

"Yeah?" Pietro kissed Lance's cheek, then nuzzled the spot, feeling sweet and affectionate after Lance's soft words earlier. "What was that, about Kitty owing you a blowjob?" 

"Oh, yeah. We made a bet that you'd be eating breakfast." 

Well, Pietro had made worse bets before, but-- "I hate to break it to you guys, but I usually eat breakfast. That was a stupid bet to make, Pryde. Unless you _wanted_ to lose." 

Now both boys turned to grin at her. She looked from one to the other, her face rapidly taking on a tomato's glow. "I- I didn't- Lance isn't..." 

"Aww, Kitty's first blowjob," Pietro cooed. "We'll put it in the scrapbook." He might have been taunting too much, because her embarrassment transformed into energy and she tackled him, squalling like a puma. A sucker for any sort of attention, Pietro laughed gleefully as he was bowled to the edge of the bed and would have fallen were it not for Lance catching the two of them and dragging them back. 

"You! Are! The! Worst!" Kitty howled, punctuating her words with motion as she shook his shoulders. Pietro retaliated by rolling her onto her back, hiking her shirt up to her chin, and licking a long stripe up from the waistband of her jeans to the band of her bra. She froze, shuddering all over now. The icing on the cake was him blowing a cool breath over the wet spot, and watching in satisfaction as her eyes went hazy. 

"There. Are you going to be nice now?" he asked, grinning toothily. She whimpered, eyes closing tightly as he first kissed and then nipped above her naval, then set to sucking a bruise there. Her fingers curled in his hair as she began panting from the sensation. Lance watched with intrigue growing in his dark eyes, and reached to adjust himself in his black jeans. 

"That's hot," he shrugged unselfconsciously when Pietro glanced amusedly his way. "The more time I'm around you two, the more I think about what I want to do with you." 

Pietro tried not to pay too much attention to the relief this comment filled him with. _So I'm still useful until I run out of ways to be interesting..._

It wasn't like that. They were more than that. He knew this, in theory. Or rather, his logical mind knew it, but his heart was a little slower on the uptake. 

Kitty shucked off her now-useless shirt, half-sitting up to reach for Lance. He hummed softly as Kitty nestled herself under his chin, catching her jaw and running a gentle thumb over her cheekbone. "Pretty girl," he praised. "Best girl. Love my girl." 

Kitty positively _glowed._ She snuggled tighter into Lance's hold, her nose to the bump on his throat, and hugged him visciously. It was so _cute_ it made Pietro want to gag. 

And, okay, so maybe he was a little jealous. Whatever. They could have their wholesome bullshit; _he_ was going to get laid. He kicked his shoes off and raised his hips to shuck his pants off as well, knocking the brochures Kitty had collected in the lobby off their bed. His shirt was soon to join the pile of clothes, and then his briefs. When he looked up, Kitty was laughing. 

"Why are you always the first one to be naked?" she asked. 

"Clothes are for slow, boring people." He looked pointedly over their mostly dressed forms. "My case stands." 

"Hm." He liked it when Kitty's lips bunched to the side like that. That was her _challenge accepted_ face she always wore before they trounced each other playing video games. A second later, her body took on the odd, shimmery quality it always did as she lost tangibility. This time, though, her clothes did not; they instead fell, empty, to the bed. She re-solidified a moment later, now as bare as he. "How's that for slow and boring?" 

Okay, that was kind of cool. "I didn't know you could do that." 

"Years of practice, my friend."

Pietro had been too distracted last night to really _look_ at her. He wasn't about to make that mistake again. He didn't like girls as much as Lance did, but they were alright. At the end of the day, a mouth was a mouth and he'd take attention from anyone who'd dish it out. He usually went for flashier glam girls, though; noisy ones. Mean ones. Kitty, the sweet, softball playing girl-next-door sort, wasn't his type at all. 

But she loved him. _But you love her._

It was easier not to think about it. 

"Come here," he said, his tone gentler than normal. She hesitated a moment before crawling to him, allowing him to cup her face. He touched a kiss to her forehead and, while she was still blinking in surprise, whispered something in her ear that made her grin. 

"Guys?" Lance asked, puzzled, as his two naked partners slunk to his side. He fell silent as Kitty, stroking his hair out of his face, melted him with a kiss, Pietro had other destinations in mind. With practiced ease, he slid to the floor and undid the buckle of Lance's belt, tugging it free. Kitty took Lance's wrists in hand and brought his hands to her breasts; his muffled moan made Pietro shiver as he palmed her skin softly and suckled his own mark onto her throat to match the one on her stomach. 

Having two people around was going to be useful for devious stealth missions. Lance barely seemed to notice as he was stripped from the waist down. He _did,_ however, notice the hot mouth sliding expertly down the entirety of his cock with no warning whatsoever. Pietro, who'd long since mastered his gag reflex, had no trouble taking Lance's length and swallowing around it. 

_"Holy_ fuck!" Lance gasped, arching in surprise. Pietro met his eyes. He couldn't exactly smile, but Lance read the smug expression in his eyes anyway. 

Pietro beckoned Kitty closer, and she slipped off the bed beside him as he began sucking Lance off in enthusiastic earnest. She watched him, brow furrowed in concentration, then practically climbed into his lap, reaching. Lance's whimper of protest as Pietro released him and sat back was as pathetic as it was delicious. A tiny quake made the room rumble, and Pietro stroked Lance's thigh reassuringly. He'd mostly gotten a hold on his seismic waves during sex, but sometimes... 

"We've got him whipped," Pietro confided to Kitty, who grinned, taking Lance's spit-slicked cock in hand and giving it a curious pump. 

"Tighter, here." Pietro wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing. "He's not fragile. Twist your wrist like this." 

Lance was staring at the two of them, his pupils blown wide as saucers. Kitty was a quick pupil, and once Lance was moaning again, she licked her lips and leaned in to make good on her promise of a blowjob, Pietro whispering encouragements all the while. 

"Start slow- just. Suck the tip- that's good, good girl. Tongue at the slit there- you hear him? You're doing great. Keep moving your hand, come on." 

She didn't take him very deep. She didn't even try, which was good. Maybe that'd be a lesson for another day. From the quantity and volume of Lance's moaning and half-whispered, broken praises, he didn't seem to mind. There was an almost musical quality to Lance's stuttered cussing, so he flashed the Avalanche a grin. 

"Really, Alvers? Language! There's a lady present." 

Kitty, mouth otherwise occupied, flipped them both off. Pietro's head dropped to her shoulder as he _laughed._ This was fun. Weird, but fun.

She shifted, and he hissed, edging back as her hip caught a sensitive place. Lance's whine was piteous indeed as she released him and craned to look over her shoulder and see what was wrong. Pietro pushed her face back to the task. 

"You're fine, baby. Just keep going." 

The back of Kitty's neck flushed a fetching pink as she resumed. It took him a split second to register what he'd just called her. _Fuck._

Kitty squirmed in Pietro's lap, slurping loudly, and settled back down again. Then she paused, and cautiously repeated the motion. Her toes, folded underneath her and pressed to either side of his thighs, curled just a little, and then he understood that she was grinding herself down against his cock. 

"Does that feel good?" he asked, as she cautiously resumed. The flush on her neck grew redder; when he kissed it, he felt how warm she'd gotten. He swept her hair aside and pressed his forehead to the back of her head, daringly rubbing his own cock against her pussy. She was damn wet, spilling over him, so he cupped her throat with one hand and rolled his hips. 

She moaned, and the vibrations caused Lance to fall back against the bed, shivering helplessly. "Guys, please," he pleaded, voice climbing high as he struggled to keep it together. "I'm so _close..._ "

Pietro, his chest feeling very warm, ducked his head to mouth at Kitty's ear. "You're on the pill, right?" He'd noticed her, every now and again, popping a tiny pill from a distinctive, circular pack she carried with her. She jerked her chin in a nod, then _jolted_ when he again dragged his cock against her lips, his meaning dawning on her. 

Lance had practically doubled on himself, words a garbled string of swears and begging. He gripped the back of Kitty's head, holding her as his hips gave little uncontrollable pulses. "Kitty, I'm gonna-" 

Kitty, completely without instruction, squeezed his thighs and hollowed her cheeks, and Lance came with a groan into her waiting mouth. She squeaked, eyes wide, pulling back in time to catch a streak of cum across the bridge of her nose, trailing sideways down her cheek. A heartbeat later, she made a _face_ that had Pietro close to laughter again. 

"It's an acquired taste," he assured her as she blinked, swallowed, and made the same face, only stronger now. He waited until he knew he had Lance's attention to showily lick the cum off her cheek. 

Lance gave a strangled little huff and fell back against the bed, eyes huge. "You two are going to be the death of me," he wheezed. "Feel my heart; I think I'm going into cardiac arrest. That was... In-fucking-mazing." 

Well, now. If they'd gotten him into inventing new profane words, Pietro figured they should take that as a high compliment indeed. 

Kitty beamed, rubbing her undoubtedly sore jaw. "Really? I'm glad-" 

She moved to sit up; Pietro moved with her, aching and craving heat- touch- _anything._

"Pryde," he blurted out, catching one of her hips. "Can I fuck you?" 

Lance's eyes flew open at that, and Kitty turned to face him. Something inside his chest cringed. Had he just... Broken some rule, or...? Maybe Kitty was right. Maybe they should have had more discussion of-- 

"Hell's bells, I thought you'd never ask," she grumbled, turning to sit back on the bed and drawing Pietro into a kiss that tasted strongly of Lance. "What took you so long, slowpoke?" 

Relieved, Pietro wasted no time, overly affectionate as he traced her sides, skimmed gentle fingers over her breasts. She resisted when he attempted to push her back onto the mattress. 

"I need to be on top," she said, a hint of nerves catching in her voice again. 

_It figures._ He remembered the night before, how she'd grown uncomfortable at him pressing into her... Maybe being on top _was_ a need for Kitty. He could roll with that. 

They stood, trading places. When Pietro sat, Lance dragged him inelegantly down beside him, curling like a question-mark with his head on Pietro's chest. Lance always did become beastly cuddly after sex, so Pietro stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head as Kitty crawled over the top of him, her long hair tickling his chest. 

"You can't make fun of me," she reminded him with a stern glare as she straddled his hips. "I'm new." 

He could, because he was Pietro, but he probably wouldn't, because she was Kitty. And anyway, he felt so touch-starved just then that his very bones cried out when she sank onto him, taking him slowly. He stroked her hip encouragingly as she adjusted to the new sensation.

"How do you feel?" Lance asked, sleepy and yet watchful. Kitty adjusted, shifting, as she considered the question. 

"Full," she finally decided, and rocked her hips. "Like, it's like, _good,_ but not-" she braced her hands on his chest and rocked again. " _Oh,_ that's-" 

"Quit trying to explain everything and just move," Pietro snapped, thrusting his hips to meet hers. And, to Lance: "Stop being so distracting." 

Lance rolled his eyes. 

With his hands on Kitty's hips, Pietro managed to coax her into a rhythm that, while not as fast or sharp as he would have taken himself, was definitely more than good. The pleasure built like a pool of heat in his stomach when they finally found their stride. He reached between her thighs, thumbing her swollen clit to make her croon for them. Lance's cock gave an interested twitch at the sound. Her thighs were stronger than he would have expected; they held up a long time. The burn was a slow one, though. 

Then she bore down with her internal muscles, squeezing Pietro like a glove, and he gasped, head falling back. "Oh, _fuck,_ baby, yes- keep doing _that._ " 

Like melted gold traveling slow through his veins, eventually meeting with his heart. It was good. This was good. The sweat. The creaking of springs. Lance, holding him tight. Kitty, bearing down on him. _More. More. Give me more._

Lance kissed him. Kitty, a wreck of exertion, fucked down onto him in earnest, chasing her pleasure. He felt the moment she shuddered through, gasping, the pulsing of her walls around him enough to make him hiss through his teeth and finish inside her. It was the sort of orgasm that _hurt,_ draining and emptying him until he felt whittled down to bare bone and sinew. He must have blacked out for a second or two, because as he returned to himself, Kitty was sliding off of him. 

"Lance," she was saying, voice soft. "Lance, hold me--" 

He did. Pietro, unable to move, stared up at the spinning ceiling. He returned to himself, some, as Kitty pressed fever-hot into his side, clinging. 

"Are you okay, pipsqueak?" he asked, because her face was pressed hard to his shoulder and he couldn't see for himself. 

"I don't know," she admitted, after a heart-sinking silence. "That was a lot." 

It was. It had been. Generally, when things were _that_ much, Pietro started crying. He couldn't help himself; Lance had a way of flaying his soul open, stinging, to the elements. This hadn't been like that, but this had certainly been... _something._

"My heart hurts," Kitty said, after a time. "I can't explain it." 

She didn't have to. Pietro understood. He did for her the things _he_ needed, on the nights when the tears wouldn't stop flowing. He combed her hair with his fingers, and trailed kisses over her back. He caught her hands and squeezed them, trapping her tightly between his body and Lance's, until that vulnerable and empty feeling started to pass. Until she could breathe again. 

"True or false," Pietro said, as the three were illuminated by the gold of the streetlight outside the window. "Pietro loves Kitty." 

It was a risky gamble, turning her own game back on her when emotions were so fresh on the table. But he was... Trying. He was working to the best of his Pietro abilities to be what they needed... as they always were what _he_ needed. 

"True?" Kitty's voice was hesitant. Pietro allowed her to feel his smile against the back of her arm as he kissed her there. "Correct. A+. A gold star to Ms. Pryde." 

Lance smiled at him, a soft expression that was so tender it almost hurt. _I'm proud of you,_ that look seemed to say. It felt good, but it also felt a little soul-flaying, and he couldn't afford to cry just now, so he closed his eyes. 

"True or false?" Lance said, voice low and rumbly with satiation and near-sleep. "Lance loves Pietro." 

"True." This time, Pietro answered without hesitation. He didn't open his eyes again, but if he'd had to make a bet, he would have said that Lance's proud smile just about doubled. 

"You're damn right." 

A sleepy silence passed. Kitty's breathing had evened out, and she'd relaxed her death grip on his arm, as well. He was beginning to think she'd drifted off when she spoke at last, her words slurred on a yawn. "True or false: Kitty loves you both." 

Lance kissed her forehead, tucking her deeper into his hold. "True." 

Pietro pinched her butt, causing her to grumble a protest, before delivering a smacking kiss to her shoulder. "True, _of course._ " This made her smile. 

"Yaaaaaay..." 

The two boys breathed a sigh of relief as she dozed at last. Pietro's heart was feeling decidedly full just then. Kitty was right: It had been a lot. There would be more to process. More to discuss. But his faith in the two had solidified. Whatever their future on the road faced them with tomorrow, he was certain they could combat it, together.


	3. Lietro (mine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Lietro for this chapter.

Lance's cock was a heavy thing; especially now, filled with blood and leaking messily at the tip. Running the tip of his nose over the underside before parting his mouth, Pietro made a show of moaning as he closed his lips over the head, lewdly palming himself for Lance to watch in their bedroom mirror. He pulled Lance's foreskin back, exposing the dewy head of his cock, and rasped his tongue over it to taste him.

"Fuck, P," Lance whined, hands fisted tightly in his bedsheets. "Oh, f-" he couldn't even finish his sentence; he'd bitten down on his own lip and was struggling to remain still as Pietro set to noisy work, sucking him down and expertly handling his tight, heavy balls all the while. 

Pietro welcomed this. The squeeze of thighs bracketing his ears. The tremble of muscle around him. The painful stretch of jaw to accommodate Lance's length, and the deliberate widening of his own throat to swallow him without gagging. He had to practically unhinge his damn jaw to take all of Lance but it was so, so worth it when his nose was buried in wiry pubic hair and Lance's hips were giving tiny, desperate jounces. When he glanced up and saw Lance's head tossed back, his mouth forming words he didn't have the sound to utter. When Lance's stomach rolled as Pietro swallowed and hummed and swallowed again, feeling thick and salty precum slide smooth as Sunday down his throat... 

Oh, it was all worth it. 

It was the immediacy; the grounding. The _I'm right here and this is what's happening._ The absolute focus. It was like a blissful vacation from his usual racing thoughts and hyperactive personality. _Keep me here, Lancelot. Keep me here with you. Don't let me slip away._

Lance's hips thrust again, shoving himself, if possible, further down Pietro's gullet. Some men liked it when you choked a little- Pietro was happy to oblige- but Lance would have known it to be playacting. Lance preferred genuine response to any show. He was so damn _real._ Pietro took all that he was given and begged for more, scratching his nails down Lance's thighs hard enough to raise four red lines to make him hiss. 

He pulled off of Lance's cock with a pop, leaving a slimy trail bridging the reddened tip to his swollen lips, and gazed steadily up at his boyfriend. "Use me," he said, voice a hoarse rasp in the empty room. "Lance, fuck my face. I need it today." 

He did, too. He'd been all over the place mentally and emotionally that day. Lashing out one second and freezing like ice the next. The other students at Xavier Mansion called him bipolar- insensitive pricks- but Lance, at least, understood the truth. Pietro was _bored_ and restless and unsatisfied and skin-hungry and desperate for attention. He needed to feel loved, valued... 

_Useful._

"Yeah, Tro," Lance agreed, nodding. "Yeah. Put that mouth of yours back on me now, baby. Gonna fuck that pretty little throat of yours til its raw." 

Pietro eagerly scrambled back into place, and Lance wasted no time fucking punishingly into his throat, holding the back of his head. This was bliss. Pietro's entire mind went perfectly, beautifully blank, after days- weeks- of swirling nonstop. There was no peace, not even when he slept. But _now--_ Now it was just minutes at a time of... _Stillness._ It was a struggle to breathe, and he couldn't have been happier. 

"Wanna cum on your _face,_ "Lance moaned, as his thrusts grew more prolonged, more uneven but shallower, his balls pulled tight to his body. He still had a hand in Pietro's hair as he pulled out and gave himself a rough stroke, emptying himself in violent spurts over Pietro's mouth and cheekbone. Pietro thankfully remembered to close his eyes this time- though there'd even been some pleasure in the _burning_ the one time he'd forgotten- and opened his mouth to catch the last of it on his tongue before smiling, face dripping, up at his boyfriend. 

Lance looked wobbly and spent as he struggled for air, but dark eyes hungrily took in the sight of Pietro's messy and debauched face, hair pulled into crazy spikes and swirls, mouth a red kiss of sin. Pietro deliberately licked his lips before standing, slinking smoothly over Lance's body to lay on him. He braced his elbows on Lance's chest and smiled pleasantly down at him. 

"You gonna clean me up?" he asked, a little wickedly. "It's not nice to make a mess without doing your part, Lancey." 

Lance's lips quirked in a smile, and he sat up to press a kiss to Pietro's lips, flicking his tongue over them as Pietro hummed agreeably and began grinding his own neglected erection into Lance's hip. 

Lance took Pietro's chin and tilted his face for him, lapping his tongue like a dog's over Pietro's cheek, his temple, his brow, suckling appreciateively at his fine cheekbone. If he wasn't careful, he'd leave a hickey there _again._

He tilted Pietro's chin to the left and repeated the process, laving and rasping his tongue now, no longer tasting his own spunk on his boyfriend's face but just _licking_ him and it should have been gross, if it were anyone else, Pietro would never have tolerated it (okay, that wasn't necessarily true. Pietro allowed all contact he could get from most people... But he wouldn't have _enjoyed_ it. As much). As it was, he only spread his legs wider, rutting shamelessly into Lance's stomach now and moaning as hands squeezed the full globes of his ass. 

"You're such a good little whore," Lance told Pietro, squeezing and massaging his ass, exposing his hole to the air of their room before closing it, again and again. Pietro moaned in earnest now, ducking his head away to whimper and gasp with his forehead to Lance's collarbone. "You take cock like a dream. Nobody does it better than you." 

His ass felt so _empty._ He wished Kitty was there to peg him with that special new toy they'd ordered online together one night, the three of them curled up with Kitty's laptop open as they discussed products and prices. It'd embarrassed him at the time of purchase, but had quickly become a favorite among the three. 

"I'm good?" Pietro asked, looking up to meet Lance's eyes, his own blue eyes still watering from the soreness of his throat. "I'm good for you, Lancey? I'm a good boy?" 

He was too open in moments like these. Unable to keep himself hidden under masks of indifference and aloof coolness; all his walls crumbled. It was needy, embarrassing, _pathetic_... 

And yet Lance and Kitty had proved time and again that they understood. That they accepted him for what he was... And that they didn't expect this sort of behavior to _continue_ outside of the bedroom. They never treated him differently, like his needs (so different from their own) were weird. Freakish. Annoying. They continued to soothe all the hurt places inside of him, until it was possible for this level of trust to form like crystals in salt. 

"You're the _best_ boy," Lance encouraged. "You're _m-_ " here he stopped. Censored himself. Pietro did not like to be called 'mine', as in, _my best boy,_ as Lance had so clearly been about to say. He flushed, stumbled to correct himself. "Best boy I've ever seen. Open your mouth, baby." 

Pietro forgave the slip without comment, though it did send a pang of wariness through him. He liked a lot of things; he loved feeling cherished and treasured and valued. But unlike Kitty, the thought of feeling _owned_ made him feel a little trapped and a lot claustrophobic. When people started calling him 'theirs', they started putting all sorts of rules and expectations on him, and expecting him to follow them. Had anyone else said it, even Kitty, Pietro would have left right then and there. He made all kinds of exceptions for Lance. 

Lance brought a hand up to slip fingers into Pietro's mouth, and Pietro took them eagerly, closing his eyes and laving his tongue over and between them, getting them good and wet. They had lube, and plenty of it (Kitty preferred the strawberry flavored), but sometimes this was better. Three fingers pressed to his tongue with another huge hand on his ass, holding him open, then those same wet fingers pressing inside of him. Two at first, sliding to the knuckle; scissoring, then the third. There was a slight burn. Pietro had a very slight healing factor that made holding a stretch unlikely. Every time felt a little like the first time, and Lance's fingers were just like the rest of him: long, thick, and slightly callused. 

He pushed his hole out, obediently trying to fit Lance in, though his forehead was still touching Lance's chest. Eye-contact would be too much right now. He might start crying, and it'd been a good few weeks since he'd cried during sex. He was trying to get better, though the others insisted they didn't mind. 

"Ooh," he said quietly, when Lance began to finger-fuck him. He wasn't stretched quite enough, but Lance knew he liked it that way. Liked the slight burn, the friction. He rose back onto his elbows for leverage to meet the thrusts, dragging his cock over the flat plane of Lance's belly as he did so. "Lance, that feels- mmf- amazing, but-" 

Lance's grin was just a little wicked. "What's wrong, baby?" 

He was deliberately avoiding Pietro's prostate, was what was wrong. Skirting the edges, flirting with it, giving Pietro a taste of true, mind-numbing bliss, but-- 

"You know _what,_ " Pietro glared, pouting. He tried to impale himself further on Lance's fingers, but the hand on his ass caught his waist instead, stalling him from any movement at all as Lance continued to slowly, inadequately fuck him. 

"I really don't, Tro," Lance said, feigning innocence, eyes wide. "Remember... you have to _tell_ me... Use your words...." 

Rat _bastard._ It always came down to this. Pietro hated begging as much as he craved it. He scowled. "Don't play games with me, Alvers; just fuck me hard. I need to cum." 

" _Oooh,_ is _that_ what you wanted! You could try asking nicer, though..." 

If he hadn't needed his hands to keep his weight braced, he would have throttled the grinning jerk. He tried to soften his hostile tone into something demure, beseeching. He opened his eyes wide in a way he knew made them catch the light. It wasn't his fault he happened to look a little angelic, all the while being an impish devil. He'd never asked for his looks, but he would certainly take advantage of them when it benefitted him. 

"Lancey, _please_ fuck me harder... Can't you make me feel good? I'm all empty and aching inside because of you. I need you to fill me, stretch me up--" 

Lance's face colored at the pretty bleating. His pace increased immediately, and he released the hold on his waist. Pietro began humping his stomach in earnest, backing onto the digits inside him until they flickered and rubbed his neglected prostate. He ducked his head and sobbed drily for it, overwhelmed and overstimulated and unable to keep speaking. He was flung over the edge when Lance's teeth found his neck, biting him and holding him in place like a wolf might a deer as he finished him off. 

Pietro was panting, eyes glazed, as he painted Lance's olive skin with streaks of white fluid and then collapsed onto him, head spinning. He whimpered when Lance took his hand back and allowed himself to be maneuvered onto his side, face-to-face with his boyfriend. 

Lance tenderly brought their foreheads together and reached for the discarded blanket, pulling it over both their heads like they were children at a sleepover. Gone was his teasing, smirking face. He had only kind, soft eyes now. "You okay, baby? That was so hot." 

Pietro nodded. He was good. Great, even. He felt all flooded with the cuddly feel-good hormone- what was it even called? The fact that he couldn't remember spoke volumes as to how hazy his mind was after ograsm. Great sex slowed the world down for him and allowed him to breathe again. 

"Feelin' real good," he yawned lazily, and caught Lance's waist, pulling him close. Folding himself up to be held. He didn't usually want to be held after fucking other people. All that desperation and need fled him upon orgasm, but when Lance kissed his shoulders, the back of his neck, rubbing his lower back soothingly, Pietro felt at peace. He'd no doubt want a brief nap- truth be told, so did Pietro- but for now he was content just to hold and be held. 

Lance's hand on the back of Pietro's neck lightly scritched where his hairline began, and Pietro murmured his enjoyment of the touch. He considered something until a thumb pressed to his brow, soothing the thought away. "What are you thinking about, P?" 

Of course Lance knew his mind was full. He was Pietro. Even now, his thoughts were beginning to pick up speed. To race. There was no silencing his mind forever. "I like sex with you more than I like it with anyone else." 

Lance looked pleased, but Pietro wasn't imagining the pang of jealousy in his eyes. Lance wanted Pietro and Kitty all to himself. Didn't like that his boyfriend slept around. Maybe it made him feel inadequate. Maybe it made him feel lonesome. "Yeah?" he asked cautiously. They had an agreement to not talk about that part of Pietro's life unless it was an emergency, and Pietro couldn't begrudge him that. 

Pietro debated whether to finish his train of thought. Once said, the words couldn't be taken back. Well, they could be, but Lance would always know he'd said them. He considered for so long that Lance really did look to be about to sleep. Then Pietro spoke. "Just thinking about how... How good we are together, I guess. How much I like what we have. I don't deserve it-" Lance looked as though he wanted to contest that point, but Pietro soldered on. "Thinking I want... I want just. This. Us. I don't know if I want to..." 

He could hardly believe he was saying this. Pietro Maximoff? Settle down? Would he come to regret this the next time some pretty thing transferred to their school? Would this resolute determination fade away with the post-orgasm fog? 

There his mind went again. Spin, spin, spin like clothes in a dryer. He traced his fingertips through tacky, drying cum on Lance's stomach. 

"You mean it, P?" Lance asked finally. Warily. He'd forgive Pietro if he backed out on this now, but it'd hurt. Pietro considered, opened his mouth, closed it again as he thought. Other people felt good, but this thing they had _was_ good. He wanted to give Lance something. Wanted to make him happy, the way he made Pietro happy. 

"Might be kinda nice," he finally managed. "Being your... _your_ good boy." 

His ears burned when he said the words. Funny. He could do and say the filthiest things without a hitch, but the second feelings came into play? He had to duck his head. Lance went rigid, as though in shock. 

"Don't play, Tro," Lance said a little hoarsely. "Don't say that if you don't mean it." 

Stubbornness ran a mile wide in Pietro. He sat up with a glare, poking Lance in the chest. "You think I can't do it?" 

Lance blinked, caught off guard. "I don't think there's anything you _can't_ do. I just don't know why you'd want to." He was so honest in this. He honestly meant those words. He believed Pietro was invincible, and sometimes that belief made Pietro _feel_ invincible. It was one of the things he most liked- 

_Liked_ \-- 

Okay, fine. Loved. _Loved, damn it!_ about Lance Alvers. 

Surging on a sudden burst of energy, he kissed Lance hard, then backed away just as quickly. " _That's_ why." 

Lance blinked, a little confused, a little dazed. "Oh. Um. Yeah. Yeah, then. Yes." He met Pietro's eyes firmly, reaching to squeeze his ass as he'd done before, causing Pietro to groan softly. "Mine, then," he said. " _Just_ mine." There was a dark wave of satisfaction in his eyes at the words he'd been holding himself back from uttering for years. 

Pietro waited for the anxiety to settle in; the urge to distance himself. He wondered if he'd ruined what was possibly the best thing in his life with a few careless words, because, as the therapists liked to say, _You like to build towers in your life for the express purpose of knocking them down and getting caught in the crash._

They weren't necessarily wrong about that. 

The moment passed. The anxiety didn't come. In fact, he was feeling pretty... warm about the whole thing. 

"Can you say that again?" Pietro requested, his head cocked. 

Lance sat up again, bracing his elbows underneath his body, against the mattress to fully meet Pietro's eyes. "You," he said, slowly. "Pietro Maximoff, are _mine._ " 

Oh, _very_ warm indeed. And complete with cutesy little butterflies, like he used to get as a kid, back before life had beaten the sweetness out of him. Was it just possible that he'd made one right decision in a lifetime of mistakes? 

"Yeah," Pietro breathed, licking his lower lip. "Yeah, that... I think I can do that." 

Lance's spent cock gave an interested little jump. Pietro smirked. 

"Think you've got another round in you, Lancevelanch?" _Please don't say the line about the concrete coaster. Please. I might have to suffocate you with one of Xavier's fluffy down pillows, and that'd just be unfortunate for everyone._

Mercifully, Lance only smirked, already reaching for Pietro's hips. "Anything for my good boy."


	4. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a poly holiday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it should be mentioned that this is entirely [Whattheficery's](http://whattheficery.tumblr.com) fault, as are most things I write for this fandom.
> 
> Also note this is at least somewhat derivative from my longass [Pretty Monsters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717032/chapters/23743782) fic, because I'm apparently all about bastardizing my own canon. Basically: The trio are a poly couple, Kitty's mom is cool with it, Kitty's dad is dead, Kitty's other relatives.... don't really dig it.

"Your aunt is an asshole." 

These were, unsurprisingly, the first words Pietro uttered as they retreated to Kitty's childhood bedroom; all zebra prints and lacy pillows and strung fairy-lights. She hadn't truly _lived_ in this room since before her mutation manifested, but it was where she slept every time she came home for the holidays, and now for the first time her two boyfriends were right in there with her. 

"Rachel? Yeah, she's always been a bit high strung. She liked you, though." 

"Until she knew we were dating Lance, too." 

This made the tallest of their trio huff a laugh. "Right? What was she thinking? That I was just third-wheeling my friends to your mom's Thanksgiving party?" 

They'd had to put their relationship into words at the family dinner. Or, more precisely, Kitty's _mother,_ Teresa, had. The conversation had flowed thusly: 

Rachel: "Katherine, I just think it's so amazing that you're still friends with these two. How many people can say they held onto a childhood friendship so long?" 

Kitty: "Thanks, auntie! Actually, we're dating now, but it _is_ pretty amazing. Can you pass the potatoes?" 

Rachel: "Oh, so you _did_ finally ask her! Good for you!" 

Kitty: "Yep; Pietro and Lance are my boyfriends." 

"Rachel: "Excuse me?" 

Teresa: "Yes! It's called polyaneurysm. I've been doing a lot of reading about it lately! This year has been such a roller-coaster after losing Carmen, but these three have been such angels in keeping my spirits up. Who's interested in pie?" 

And it'd only gone downhill from there, resulting in arguing, mild name-calling, and awkward chewing noises as everyone ran out of things to speak about. Rachel and her family had left early; the trio had helped Teresa clean up after dinner, and were now grateful to hole up in a room of 90's teen memorabilia. Pietro smirked at a larger-than-life poster of Britney Spears; Lance smiled fondly at an entire shelf covered in galloping plastic horses, and both boys felt a little envious to discover that Kitty had grown up with her own en suite bathroom. 

Seeing Kitty struggle to remove her necklace, Pietro zipped behind her and did it for her, then went ahead and undid the pearl buttons on the back of her dress. He pulled the straight-pins from her long hair and, finally, undid the clasp of her bra for her. When she mumbled her thanks, he leaned his face into the back of her neck. 

"You know," he remarked. "Doing you in your childhood room would definitely scratch something off the list." 

He was not prepared for the dirty look Kitty shot his way. "In front of Simon?!" she said, completely serious. (Simon, as it turned out, was one of hundreds of stuffed animals all over the place. Pietro wouldn't have been able to identify it in a police lineup.) "In my _mom's_ house?!" 

"Tell Simon I'm an exhibitionist; I like to be watched. And for fuck's sake, Kitty, your mom has her own floor of the house! It's not like she'd hear us." She didn't have to glare at him like he was suggesting they fuck in a confessional booth, grinding their sweaty naked bodies against the nailed feet of Jesus. Though, now that he thought about it... 

Kitty was scowling at him so fiercely that, briefly, he let it go. Lance had wisely shut his mouth, no doubt wanting to avoid getting thrown in the doghouse for saying the wrong thing or, worse, laughing. 

"You're a pig," was all Kitty would say on the matter. 

Her canopy bed was plenty big enough for the three of them, but Lance sensed trouble in paradise. "I think I'll take the floor," he mumbled. "My back's been... yeah." It was true that two decades of his life being harsh on his joints had been giving him back pain; he preferred the hard floor to soft mattresses most of the time. 

His body, however, evidently missed his partners. After they'd all gone to bed-- as usual, Lance fell asleep within seconds; Kitty at a more sedate passage of minutes; Pietro, never-- he rolled to them, the bed high enough off the ground that the almost two-hundred pounds of his tall body fit neatly underneath. 

As easy to wake as he was to sleep, he let out a sleepy "Hm?" when he felt a weight solidify on top of his chest. Opening his eyes in the dark yielded nothing, but he would have known the feel, scent, sound of his girlfriend anywhere: she must have phased straight through the bed and down to him. 

"Shh," she told him, kissing the underside of his jaw, wriggling her ass against his groin. Oh, he was definitely waking up _now!_

She kissed him, something he returned eagerly, though their position was strange and probably not all that comfortable for her neck. She didn’t waste any time sliding a hand down the front of his boxers, and the excitement of an illicit quickie- even just a handjob under a bed- had his cock standing to take notice before he could remember why this wasn’t the best of ideas. 

“Kitty,” he whispered, voice low. “Pietro—” 

“So just stay quiet, then.” 

Lance could do quiet. Not always; the two people in the room had proved many times over that he could be broken down o base animal sounds of heat and frustration with coaxing and the right moves. But Kitty wasn’t trying to tease him now; didn’t try to get him to beg. Licking her palm, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and began to work him off in earnest. 

“Are you wet?” Lance asked, and kissed her ear, running his tongue over the shell as she pumped his cock, adding a twist at the wrist, occasionally swiping her thumb over the slit. 

“Why don't you find out?” 

His cock twitched. He smiled, then did as she requested. She’d gone to bed in cotton panties and her track jersey; despite the cold November weather, Kitty’s mother kept the large and impressive house a little too warm all the time. They could be naked and be just as comfortable. 

She _was_ wet; wet and hot as he pushed her panties to the side and spread her folds with index and ring finger. He ran his middle finger up her slit, starting at her hole and ending with just the tiniest of flicks to her hard and swollen little clit. “Oh, you're _all_ wet for me.” 

Even whispering as softly as he could, his voice still carried. He ran his middle finger in a slow, teasing circle around her clenched opening. “Want me to fill you up, baby girl? I bet you’re all achy inside, huh? You need my big cock to take care of that?” 

She moaned, squirmed, head falling back, hips jerking. Her grip around him faltered, and she didn’t bother to be quiet about it. 

From atop of the bed, Pietro sat up, throwing a pillow to the floor in disgust. “You douchebags. That is _not_ fair.” 

“What isn’t?” Kitty asked, flirty and mocking. “You were rude earlier, so you just get to listen now.” 

Oh. Another of her power games. She didn’t do them too often, but Lance always enjoyed when she did. And this time it looked like it would be to his favor, especially after the strangled whine Pietro emitted, half arousal, half frustration, all hot. Lance licked the shell of Kitty’s ear again, attempting to roll over her, to hold her down. To span her legs with his hands and guide himself inside of her... 

Kitty wasn’t having it, though. She kept the two of them stacked on their backs, then did a sort of shuffle up the length of his body. Her legs were held open by his own, and when she reached for his cock and slid it against her, it was his turn to moan in frustration. There was no good leverage for him at this angle; he couldn’t thrust his hips, as her weight pinned him. He couldn’t work his cock inside her without use of hands to guide. The most he could do was squirm, his cock caught lengthwise between her pussy lips. 

“Kitty, you’re killing me,” he whimpered. He almost _heard_ her smile in the dark as she rubbed her hips against his shaft, little grinding circles that just made him want more. This was madness; torture. This was— 

This was bedsprings above them creaking as Pietro shifted. Moved to the center, then stopped. Lance tried to imagine it; was he kneeling? 

“Keep going,” Pietro advised, and oh, that was definitely his sex voice. The springs creaked again; again. Pietro was touching himself and enjoying every second of it. Hell; Lance _envied_ him. He could fuck his own fist. Lance could barely move as his girlfriend slowly got herself off on top of him. Wasn’t Pietro supposed to be the one being punished just then?

Kitty was panting already. Teasing herself with Lance's length. Though he was feeling pouty about the situation, he slipped his hands up her torso anyway, taking her small breasts in hand. Thumbing her nipples through the slippery fabric of her jersey. 

"You doing okay up there, Tro?" Lance called, a bit teasingly. "Kitty's having a grand old time." 

Pietro cursed them both out. He was usually such a hair-trigger on the first round; it didn't take much to get him to finish. He whined; a desperate sort of sound, and the creaking of bedsprings began anew. 

"Tro," Kitty called sweetly, bracing her hands on the floor to really begin grinding herself against Lance. "Tro, baby, are you-- aah-- are you humping a pillow?" 

There was a pause. Lance considered the idea, the grinned. The thought of desperate Pietro humping himself silly against a pillow was... Well. 

"Yes," Pietro stammered, high and pleading; he was close already. It sometimes took him a few consecutive rounds to be able to last. "Yeah, yes--" 

"Does it feel good, honey?" Kitty asked. She was growing wetter by the second; Lance felt pool in the bowl of his hips; making them both slick. She wandered a small hand back between her legs and thumbed at the head of Lance's erection, gliding along his slit until he was whining in her ear. "Bring yourself off like a good little boy and we'll come back up for you." 

"I _am_ good!"

He was pouting; they both heard it in his voice. The squeaking of bedsprings increased alongside his desperation. "I'm so good, you know I'm so good for you. Come on- come up and fuck me, _please_..." They both heard the second his pout turned into begging.

"Oh, baby..." Kitty purred. "Sweet, needy baby. You gonna cum for us?" 

" _Yeah..._ " 

The sound of tears in his voice made Lance's hips jerk, driving Kitty up. She gasped, and again when he sank his teeth into her neck, licking the salt there. They ground against one another, as quiet as they could to hear every last needy moan and whimper Pietro made as he came. His long, drawn-out whine had Lance sitting up, pushing Kitty through the box spring, guiding her by the hips as she phased onto the bed above and crawled on top of Pietro's curled and shaking back. 

"Oh, honey," she was crooning, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him to her. "Sweetheart, good boy..." She peppered his shoulders and spine with kisses, even as Lance used his grip on her leg to haul himself through the bed after her, shucking his sweatpants as he went. Bracing his weight over Kitty, he used the strength of his arm to haul the two of them up and into his lap, leaning against the bed's wooden footboard. 

"You two are fuckin' mine," he growled, fisting a hand in Pietro's hair to look into his teary eyes by the light of the window. "How do we want to do this?" 

Pietro often became overwhelmed with need during sex, running both Lance and Kitty ragged trying to keep up. They'd hit that sweet, desperate patch, tapping into his vulnerable side, and he was shaking all over already. "Please," was all he said. "Please, you two..." 

Lance immediately set to divesting him of his t-shirt, while Kitty began ripping at his now-wet boxers, peeling them over him and throwing them to the floor. He was half-hard again already. 

"Wish I'd brought my cock," Kitty mourned, admiring at the lush curve of Pietro's ass. "Want to fuck you so bad, Tro--" 

Pietro whimpered, driven near-insensible with need. " _Please..._ " 

Neither of them could resist the call of his huge blue eyes, not in a time like this. 

"Okay. Right." Kitty looked up at Lance, used to calling the shots. "Tro, baby, Lance is gonna fuck you, okay? And I need you to use your mouth on me. Everyone okay with that?" 

Lance was already palming Pietro's hips, dragging him closer. He wasn't hard again, not yet, but he would be soon. He didn't have Lance's stamina, but he had the shortest refractory period Lance had ever seen in another man, able to orgasm again and again past the point of shooting blanks and still want more. 

Adding a second partner to the mix-- one who could also experience multiple orgasms-- helped sate him, but even then Lance and Kitty sometimes found themselves joking about needing to call in for backup. The care and maintenance of a Quicksilver was a lot of work sometimes. 

Lance scooped the cum out of Pietro's naval and set to stretching him open, hardly bothering to be gentle. Pietro was already too worked up to appreciate it; he healed fast and enjoyed the burn. 

Kitty phased through Pietro and out the other side, losing her clothes in the process until she was once again facing his back. She took his shoulders and slammed him roughly back down on the bed, lying flat as Lance grabbed his hips, hauling them high and scissoring two fingers inside him. Pietro's head flew back, mouth flying wide, and Kitty threw a thigh over his neck, straddling him before he could scream and wake the house. 

Pietro gripped her thighs like a lifeline, his fingers pressing indents into her fair skin as he jerked her into place, putting his mouth to work in exactly the way he knew she liked. Now it was Kitty fighting to keep silent. 

Lance dragged her in by the back of the neck to kiss her, swallowing her moans. He withdrew his three fingers from Pietro's ass and, still biting hungrily at Kitty's lips, slid off the bed to stand. "Be a good girl," he told Kitty sternly, pleased to see her eyes going hazy as her hips rocked, as Pietro's talented tongue flickered at her clit, more powerful than any vibrator. "Remember, you said so yourself: your family could be listening." 

"Oh," Kitty whined, barely a whisper. Her brow furrowed, and she looked to Lance for rescue. "Oh, fuck..." 

Maybe, sometimes, it was good for the bossiest member of their trio to have a taste of her own medicine. He gave her a smirk, pulling back too far for her to reach, and wound his thick arms under Pietro's knees, gripping his ass like a squeaky toy and lining himself up. "Gonna fuck you now, baby boy," he warned Pietro, teasing the boy's twitching hole with the head of his cock and feeling gratified at the muffled pleas he heard underneath Kitty. 

Kitty herself was looking a treat, all bitten lips, chest flushed red and gleaming with sweat as she tried to remain still, tried not to ride Pietro's face. Her small breasts looked positively biteable. Lance wanted to catch a nipple between his teeth, to tug and twist and-- 

She clapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle her moans, eyes pressing closed. Giving up on decorum she braced her palms flat on Pietro's chest, attempting to move, but he was still gripping her thighs hard and she could barely get any leverage. He was going to force her to cum without any hesitation at all; perhaps this was his revenge. Lance's smirk grew as he slid into his boyfriend, giving Kitty a moment of respite as Pietro stilled, taking him. 

"Pietro," Kitty gasped, trying to squirm. "Tro, baby..." 

He slid a hand from her thigh to her sensitive stomach, palming her there, and she squealed. She would have flown right off of him were it not for his strong grip. "Tro, Tro, Tro, please--" 

He scratched his fingernails over her skin and did something with his tongue that had her crying out, all decorum forgotten. She blinked teary eyes up at Lance, watching him slowly pumping his hips, stretching Pietro, getting acclimated. Lance could keep going for a long time, building slowly, working Pietro for all he was worth. He had none of the urgency the other two seemed to feel at all times; content instead to let the show unfold before him. 

"Looks like our boy's found some control after all," Lance snickered, amused beyond belief. Pietro gave him a smarmy thumbs-up. His neglected cock was growing erect once again; wet and dripping. Lance stroked a finger along the underside, collecting a dewy pearl of precum from the tip, then reached for Kitty. She sucked his fingers, meeting his eyes, and Lance heard himself growl before he began fucking into Tro in earnest. He slid his hand from Kitty's mouth to instead wrap around her throat, holding her, forcing her to continue meeting his eyes. 

"Lance," she whined, hips bucking, body shivering, eyes pleading. "Lance, I'm-- I can't--" 

"You're going to cum on Pietro's face," Lance ordered. "And then you're going to fuck him until he fills you up, until he's dripping out of you." 

Kitty _shook,_ her head falling back, and Lance pulled her to him by the throat to mouth at her chest as he kept up a steady rhythm, pounding into Pietro at an angle that had the muscles in his strong, sprinter's thighs dancing and shivering like mad. 

Pietro worked his hands under Kitty's thighs once again, half lifting her as he hauled her hips back into place. The show-off kept her suspended several centimeters above his mouth on the strength of his arms alone, giving Lance a pretty view of his defined throat and jaw, his lapping tongue as he worked Kitty off. Lance gave his cock a firm stroke in appreciation for the show. 

Kitty's head fell back as she came with a broken cry, her hands fisting the sheets, her chest heaving in little staccato gasps. She always had such a look of wonder about her every time they made her cum hard, as though she couldn't quite believe such feelings were possible. It filled Lance's chest with pride. Even after she'd finished, after the shocks and trembling died down, Pietro continued working her over. Lance watched his lips fasten around her clit and pull until she was fighting back a scream, pounding his chest with the flat of her fist. 

"St-stop..." 

He stopped, supporting her with care as she curled, trembling on her side. Lance noticed the way she scooted away from them, leaving a few inches between them and herself. 

"You good, Kitty-girl?" Lance asked, as always the mediator. The two of them became very raw during sex; sometimes they _weren't_ always 'good' after an orgasm or five, and then aftercare took top priority. Regular check-ins were part of what made the three of them work. 

"Keep going," she replied, when she could form words. "Let me catch my breath. I need a second."

They left her be. Sometimes when she said she needed a second, she really needed a second, to return to her own skin, to pull herself together. Lance adjusted his angle, shallowly fucking into Pietro until he found the spot that made his hips jump, that made him grip the sheets and thrash his head. A corner of the fitted sheet popped off the mattress, and Lance grinned. 

"You look so pretty," he told Pietro. He did; his hair all tousled, his face shiny and wet with Kitty's juices. "Can't wait to wreck you." He added a rolling snap to his hips that all but made Pietro sing for it, guiding Pietro's leg to wrap around his waist and bracing that now-freed hand on the support post of the canopy bed. "You gonna be sore tomorrow, pretty boy? You gonna be feeling me every time you move? That's the way I like you." 

More pearls of liquid were weeping from Pietro's cock; Lance ignored it, selfishly drawing his own pleasure from the boy's body without offering him any relief of his own. He could keep this game up for a long, long time until Pietro sobbed himself hoarse. Already, he was reaching for Kitty, for respite. 

"Pryde," he whined, tugging her shoulder. "Pryde, I need you. Lance isn't gonna let me cum..." 

"I can't move," she confessed honestly, apologetically. 

"I'll move for you; _please..._ " 

She rolled onto her back, facing them. Reached for Pietro. It took a moment for her meaning-- and the significance of it-- to sink in. Kitty didn't like sex when she wasn't on top; had never accepted it from them before. Something about it made her nervous. 

Even in his desperation, Pietro was balking. 

"Oh, honey, you don't have to--" 

"I want to." She gave them both a sleepy smile. "I trust you. Gotta try everything once, right?" 

"You really don't 'gotta'," Lance said, because it needed saying. "We love you. We'll take anything you let us have, but--" 

Her blue eyes opened. She fixed them both with a glare. "Pietro Django Maximoff, would you fuck me already?" 

Well. 

Lance pulled out, gripping himself, long enough for Pietro to roll onto all fours and crawl on top of Kitty, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. He was so desperate that his hands trembled, working her legs open, guiding himself inside of her. She murmured sleepy assent and tangled a hand into his hair, touching her forehead to his shoulder. "Good boy," she praised him, as he struggled to control his tempo; as he worked not to pound her frantically into the mattress. "Such a good boy for me." 

She didn't look nervous; that was a good sign. 

It was tricky, but Lance managed to still Pietro long enough to press a knee onto the mattress, half climbing it as he pressed, again, into his boyfriend. Pietro breathed in sharply, shuddering all over. 

Lance could see why. They hadn't done this before; not in this way. They were all connected now, and felt it, humming between them. Even Kitty's eyes had taken on an unusual focus; a heat. Lance gripped Pietro by the hips as he fucked into him, guiding Pietro inside Kitty as he did so. Pietro whimpered at the slow rhythm, and Kitty moaned at the steady pressure. This was-- God, but this was electric. 

"You two are incredible," Lance whispered, awed that he got to have this, got to have _them._ "I love you so much." 

Kitty smiled. Lance couldn't see his boyfriend's face, but thought he was probably smiling, too. 

They didn't last long; couldn't support the magic flowing between the three of them. They were only flesh, only blood; it would have burned them from the inside-out. Pietro emptied himself inside Kitty, gasping, as she pet his hair and soothed him all the way, hissing and biting her lip at the jerking of a thick cock buried inside her. She'd never said as much aloud, but Lance always got the distinct impression that she loved when they filled her up that way, primal and wet and burning. He saw it in how she touched herself afterwards, always a little spark of something in her eyes when her fingers came away wet with their seed. 

Pietro had about gone limp in Lance's hold; unusual for him to be done just two rounds in, but maybe he was emotionally sated. He lowed and moaned as Lance finished himself off, pulling out to finish on the small of his back, admiring the spray of white on smooth, golden-tan skin. When he set him down, Kitty wound herself around Pietro; all arms and legs and whispering comforts. 

Pietro drank it in, holding her back like a lifeline only to roll onto his back, arm extended as soon as Lance collapsed beside him. They held one another, vigorous and exhausted, trembling and wet. The bed was a wreck. _They_ were wrecks. Lance thought the other two must be holy. 

"I've... I've never felt anything like that," he confessed. Sometimes Pietro teased him for getting sappy, for talking about _feelings_ after- and often during- sex. But this time he only gave a small nod. 

"Yeah," Kitty agreed. "That was... We're something else, aren't we?" 

"I know _I_ certainly am." Pietro, as always cracking wise after being too emotionally vulnerable. The other two allowed it; it was just who he was. He snuggled into Kitty's now-tangled hair to make up for it, giving Lance's wrist a squeeze. 

"Tomorrow you're helping me clean up the room," Kitty warned, three quarters of the way to sleep already. 

"Fair enough," Lance grumbled, pressing closer to Pietro's side, throwing a leg over one of his to bring him closer. 

"Love you," Pietro murmured, which in itself was unusual enough to give the other two pause. They knew he felt it, but he didn't always say it. 

"Love you, Tro," Kitty replied. 

Lance met his boyfriend's eyes and smiled softly, grateful that Pietro, too, could talk about feelings sometimes. "Love you always."


	5. Kietro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There really isn't enough Kietro content out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Femdom/pegging, as always with lotsa love and affection (because in this house, we are Soft).
> 
> Post-high school but pre-SHIELD.

Pietro Maximoff, speedster supreme, was well on his way to getting on Kitty Pryde's last nerve.

"Do you need me to build you a hamster wheel or something?!" she snapped at her partner the fourth time he zipped into her bedroom to rearrange the teddies on the shelf above Kitty's desk. "I know it's raining, but you can _not_ be this bored!" 

She wouldn't mind so much if his general nyooming didn't displace enough air in the small New York apartment they shared with Lance Alvers that her hair was beginning to stand on end. It was chilly enough already from the general winter frost and rain outside; if he didn't stop soon she'd need to put on a jacket. 

"Bored, bored, _bored!_ " was Pietro's nonsensical response. He traded the pink teddy for the gray felt elephant. When he tried to swap its space with the plush octopus, his jostling elbow sent the yellow seahorse crashing to the floor alongside the lion, the cow, the koi fish, the unicorn, and Kitty's very favorite, the chocolate-brown kitten her grandmother had once given her. 

Pietro glanced sheepishly at his partner and then quickly bent to fix the mess, but was stopped by a small hand gripping the back of his neck. 

"That is _it_!" Kitty said, with considerable force. "I've had enough of your stuff, mister!" 

The taller mutant attempted to turn around, but Kitty's grip was surprisingly firm. "What are you gonna do about it, Pryde?" he taunted. "Sorry I knocked your zoo over. You're too old for it anyway, don't you think?" 

The hand on his neck gripped harder, forcing him to remain at a crouch. He attempted to glance over his shoulder at the iriate young woman, but she wasn't having it. "You keep bursting into _my_ room to mess with _my_ stuff, and for what?! Because you're _bored_? Because you're mad there's no parties to crash or fights to start? Are you ever going to grow up?!" 

Pietro winced. Subtly, but it was there. Kitty must have seen it, too, because her tone softened the barest hint of a decimal. "Is it because Lance has been gone all week for work?" she asked. 

A muscle in Pietro's jaw twitched. 

Kitty sighed. Relaxed her grip. Spoke with some sympathy: "I know. I miss him too. He should be back by tonight..." 

Pietro spun to face Kitty, his face heating in embarassment. "I'm not some _kid,_ Pryde," he snapped, still brandishing the octopus with his expressive hands as he spoke. "I don't _miss_ him." 

"So why are you acting out so much then, hm?" Kitty asked. She knew her superior tone sometimes drove him up the wall, and she saw annoyance flare in his sharp blue eyes now. "'Cuz from the way i see it, you're just being a little brat who wants my attention, but doesn't know how to ask for it." 

That annoyance flared brighter. Reaching behind himself, Pietro swept an arm over Kitty's shelf, sending all of the dozens of teddies bouncing to the ground. One doll, in a rather creepy voice from near-dead batteries, exclaimed, "Mama!" 

Both young adults looked at it, unsettled, before Kitty turned on her partner. "You--" she huffed, cheeks reddening. "You _jerk!_ You're going to pick all of these up, right now!" 

"Oh yeah? And how do you think you're gonna make me do _that_ , pipsqueak?!" was the childish retort, Pietro leaning into Kitty's space. Her scowl doubled, as did the red on her cheeks. He planted a condescending hand atop her head, as though to emphasize the difference in their heights. 

"You're really askin' for trouble, you know that?!" Kitty demanded hotly. "What do you want; a spanking?!" 

She'd meant the question to be rhetorical, and was surprised when she saw something other than irritation and frustration come into that expression. Pietro quickly tried to hide his reaction, but she'd seen it. She knew him. Her entire demeanor changed. 

"Ooooh," she said coyly, and tapped her chin with an index finger. "I get it now. You _did_ want my attention. Jeesh, Tro. Just use your words next time, okay? You don't need to trash my room." Her tone was teasing. Pietro _scowled._

"Shut up. I didn't-- you don't--" 

Kitty's smile widened. She cocked her head, sweetly watching him sputter. Seeing that he was only amusing her, he fell into a petulant, pouting silence.

"So what is it?" Kitty asked, clearly enjoying herself now. She twirled the end of her ponytail over her fingers as she looked her partner up and down. "I'm assuming you don't actually want me to spank you." 

That same muscle in Pietro's jaw twitched again. He said nothing; avoided eye-contact. 

"I'm not doin' anything if you don't start using your words, Tro," she warned, and he heaved a sigh. 

"I guess I was kind of. Hoping we could mess around a little," he supplied begrudgingly, speaking just a little too rapidly, so that his words tripped over one another. "You looked busy, though." He indicated the pile of magazines on her bed. She'd been going through them, tearing out pages for a project, for the past hour. 

"So you thought annoying me was your best option?" Kitty asked incredulously. 

"It worked, didn't it?" A new eagerness shone in Pietro's eyes. He dared glance her way. "C'mon, Pretty Kitty, let me just--" He reached for her slim waist, no doubt intending to pull her close. Kitty backed up. 

"Oh, no," she waved him off, stepping back. "No. You come into my room, you make a big mess... No, we're doing this my way or not at all." 

Frustration flared anew on that expressive, pointy face. "Well, what's _your_ way then?" he demanded, olive cheeks still showing a hint of a flush. 

Kitty smiled, wide and sharp as a cat on the prowl. "Sit." She nudged him towards her bed. He sat at the foot, every line in his posture indicating what a large invoncenience he found it all to be. He sat the octopus down on the floor; careful, so that all eight of its fabric tentacles splayed out underneath it. He then put the magazines next to it. Kitty watched him like a schoolteacher might survey an unruly student, then crossed the room to her beauro, pulling open a drawer. 

Pietro feigned disinterest, but she felt him watching her rummage through the items there. 

At last, she pulled free a softly jingling harness, and _grinned_ when she saw the light flare in Pietro's eyes. So he _was_ interested. 

"Why don't you pick out a cock?" Kitty asked conversationally. She held up the selection of dildos, though he was familiar with them all by now. The heavy black one; sparkly and expensive and custom made. Then there was the flesh-colored cock, sized and shaped like a realistic penis; then the more unusual teal one, all curves and edges and bumps meant to provide interesting sensation. 

Pietro looked them all over before pointing to the largest. 

"Interesting," Kitty mused. "Clothes off. I want you naked and on all fours, your back to the door." 

She stood perfectly still, watching him undress, expression unchanging as more wiry-muscled olive skin came into view. When he made to toss his shirt down, she shook her head again. "Neatly. You've made enough of a mess already." 

It was always so interesting, how just a change to her tone and inflection could get Pietro to do as she asked, when she'd been arguing with him just moments before. She knew him well enough to know the push and tell of it, but also knew him well enough to know that it didn't always last. Still, she saw that he was already half-hard when he glanced at her, then stepped out of his briefs, folding those too before setting them on his clothes-pile. 

"Oh, sweetheart," she cooed, injejcting just the tiniest hint of condescention into her voice. It made him scowl, but it also made his cock twitch. "Poor baby. Have you just been feeling so neglected?"

He turned for her, reaching, and she once again took a step back. "You still haven't followed all of my instructions." 

He blinked. Thought. Reddened. Then, stiffly, he turned his back and carefully set a knee on Kitty's bed, then another, bracing his palms on the floral bedspread as she admired the muscles of his back, his shaved legs. Appreciated his peach-fuzzed testicles hanging between his toned thighs; the glimpse she got of his pink hole when he shifted, getting comfortable. She felt heat pool low in her belly, knowing that all of him was hers for the taking. 

"You're lucky you're so pretty," she told him, approaching. She skimmed her fingertips over the back of one of his thighs and he instinctively leaned back into her hand, as always hungry for touch. "Since you're a royal pain in the backside." 

She switched hands, ran the tip of the black dildo she held over the small of his back, and watched him shiver. His own erection had grown past half-mast; the tip of his cock shining dewy with a single drop of precum. His posture was steady; unwavering, and she admired his strength. 

"Are you gonna touch me, Pryde?" he asked finally, and she recognized a different note in his voice. Not just arousal, or eagerness, but a flagging desperation. He needed this. He needed it _bad._

"Hmmm," she teased, and took a step back. Watched his finely-shaped ass clench at the loss of her touch. "Am I?" She deliberately rustled her clothes as she stepped out of them so that he knew what she was doing; sometimes he grew antsy when he couldn't watch. When she stepped into her harness and secured the sillicone cock in place, allowing it to hang heavy between her slim thighs, she allowed the buckles to clink and rattle. "Do you think you deserve to be touched, baby boy?" 

She pulled her t-shirt off over her head, then unclasped her bra as well, adding it to the pile. She pulled the elastic out of her ponytail, twisted her hair into a more convenient bun, and re-secured it before approaching. 

"I--" Pietro wet his lower lip, the bed springs creaking softly as he shifted his weight. "C'mon, Kit-Kat. I--" 

"Because _I_ don't think you've been a very good boy," she continued blithely, and reached again into her beaurou. Strawberry-flavored lube was her favorite, and its scent bloomed in the air as she allowed it to pool, sticky, in her palm. 

"Please?" Pietro asked through gritted teeth. She stepped closer, bare feet sinking into the soft rug she'd bought to match her quilt. "Please touch me." 

"Are you going to clean up the mess you made?" she asked, chipper as a Barbie doll as she gripped his hip with her dry hand, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. She felt herself becoming wetter by the second; tried not to think of how clever his lips were; how his fluttering tongue could make her very blood sing when he really put his mind to it. 

"Yes." 

"Are you going to call me 'Pipsqueak' anymore?" 

This one took a longer moment to answer. "No." 

She rubbed a soothing circle on his hip; used the back of her hand to nudge his thighs apart, deliberately brushing her wrist against his full and tight sac to make him squirm. "Are you going to _tell_ me the next time you need me to fuck you on my big cock?" 

Dirty talk hadn't come easy to her. In the past, it'd made her stutter; stammer. It'd alwasy felt so clunky and strange. She'd had plenty of time to practice. 

She audibly _heard_ him swallow; watched the flex of ribs as he breathed to steady himself. He was a miracle of moving parts; all perfectly fit together in a way that was hard to stop staring. This was, in part, why she preferred to have him on all fours; if he knew how much she admired his beauty, his ego would surely inflate to colossal size-- more so than it already was, anyway. 

"I'll tell you," he promised, attempting to squeeze his thighs together to find some relief, some release. She was nearly echoing that motion, with how hot she as burning. 

There was still time to roll him over onto his back. To sit astride his waist and sink onto him, filling herself with his cock to alleviate that sore, empty _ache_ \-- 

But no. Pietro needed to be fucked until he sobbed and wept and begged like the bad little boy he was. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. 

She pressed the pad of her middle finger to his soft hole and smiled when he gasped. She let the excess lube, warmed from her palm, drip and pool there before she applied pressure, twisting her hand as she worked a finger inside of him, then began to fuck him on it. 

"You can do more," Pietro said, voice a little strained. "Faster. I'm-- I'm not made of glass." He moved his hips back, seeching, and she aquiesced by adding her equally slick index finger; first together, then apart. His mutation made him a rather quick healer, which meant he didn't hold a stretch terribly long. He was tight as any virgin, though Kitty knew for a fact he was anything but. 

"You remember the rules, don't you Tro?" she asked, carefully scissoring her two fingers as she moved them in and out of his tight heat. With her free hand, she pressed flat between her own legs to alleviate some of her ache. "Green means it's all a-okay; yellow means something's not sitting right; red means stop?" 

"I remember. Green, green. God." He sounded annoyed. He often did when Kitty and Lance reminded him of this, though he hadn't cared for the idea of a safeword, either. Sometimes it worried Kitty-- made her wonder if he really would tell her to stop if he needed her to. He just had to push and push and push himself to his absolute limits. Sometimes she wondered if he ever thought about finding other partners-- partners who would use him; shatter him without a care as to how fragile he really was. 

She tried to push those worrisome thoughts aside for now. Pietro belonged to her and Lance, and they would never allow harm to come to this surly, difficult man they loved so, no matter how much he may have believed himself to deserve it. 

Instead Kitty focused her attention on the way he was taking her fingers; practically sucking them in, pliant and yielding and easy. When she added a third finger, he gave a tiny moan, which levelled up at the end when she crooked her fingers.

She wondered, not for the first time, if she was unsatisfying. Inadequate. She wasn't big like Lance; wasn't strong like Pietro. She was strong for someone of her diminuitive size; had lifted weights until her arms and legs and stomach showed muscle. But she'd been fingered open by Lance before, and knew it was likely her fingers didn't compare.

And perhaps that was why it was so satisfying to hear a whimper break from Pietro's throat when she slipped her pinkie into his ass; when she braced an arm on his lower back, reached for the bottle of lube, and squeezed it over his crack to add fresh slickness. The wet slapping sounds filled the little room, as did the overwhelming scent of strawberries. 

"Look at you," Kitty said, her voice lower, breathier than usual. "Taking my fingers like a champ. See? You can be a good boy sometimes." 

Pietro moaned again; more at her words than the sensations, and it emboldened her to press on: "Think you can take my cock now, sweetheart?" 

"Sometime today would be nice," he ground out impatiently, and Kitty pursed her lips in disapproval. 

"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Maximoff?" Kitty asked warningly. 

Pietro's instinct to be a smartass, always, warred with his need to be filled as quickly as possible. "No," he finally managed to growl. Then, attempting sweetness: "Just want you bad, _buttercup._ " 

Oh, it was like that? Kitty tried to hide her grin. Withdrawing her fingers (and admiring the slick, open pinkness of his hole after doing so) she approached. Gripped his hips, adjusting. Damn, but he was tall. She attempted to lower him; then gave up and rested one of her knees on the bed outside of his, drawing his hips back. "Anything for you, _petunia._ " 

More lube was required, and she had to keep her hands firmly on Pietro's hips to prevent him from lunging back onto her length. He was exactly the sort of idiot to injure himself on the quest for sensation, and then insist he healed too fast for it to matter while he was scolded for it. 

"Stop that," she snapped, when his efforts to agressively impale himself nearly forced her off the bed. She emphasized her words with a light slap to his ass. "We're doing this my way or not at all, remember?" 

He grumbled, but allowed her to continue. She teased his hole with the head of the dildo; wide enough to provide real stretch even after all her prior efforts. "Why did you want the big one?" she asked with curiosity as she watched him take her in, a little at a time as his body worked to acclimate the intrusion. "The blue one is so much easier." 

"I wanted to feel you," Pietro said, with uncharacteristic honesty. "For a long, long time. Even after this stops." 

Maybe he really had been feeling neglected. Empty. 

Kitty bent low over his back. Pressed a kiss to Pietro's tailbone. "Gonna make you feel so good, P," she promised, and watched goosebumps rise on his skin. She waited a beat before licking a fast stripe up his spine, as far as she could reach. She then gave a tiny thrust of her hips and pressed deeply inside of him. 

Pietro _moaned._

Kitty gave him a moment to adjust, then patted his flank, feeling his ribs and muscles flex under her palm. "What color, baby?" she asked a little breathlessly. 

"Green," Pietro panted, attempting again to seat himself on the cock that now split him open. "Oh, green, c'mon Pryde, come on, _c'mon_ , fuck me..." 

Oh, he _was_ eager. Well, then.

She took his hips in each hand for leverage; to better position herself, before beginning a slow rocking rhythm. Pietro, filled at last, let out a deep sigh of relief, bracing his weight on his forearms and arching back into her. Kitty worked a hand between his legs and gripped his full and heavy sac. She'd seen he and Lance being rougher with one another in this area, but wasn't familiar enough to know her limits, and so she was careful; only applying the littlest bit of pressure. 

It seemed to be doing some sort of good, because as she carefully rubbed a thumb over the warm and wrinkled skin there, Pietro began cursing up a blue streak, trying to shove himself back onto her length. His neglected cock drooled pearly pre-cum onto Kitty's quilt, and his fingers bunched in the fabric. When he called her a 'devil-woman', Kitty's smile near eclipsed her entire face. 

"This feel good, baby?" Kitty asked, hands slipping and sliding over his smooth skin; appreciating the feel of him. The warmth. The closeness. She released his balls to thumb at the place she entered him, pulling his hole open wider around her cock just to hear him curse louder. She rubbed at his taint and then spread his cheeks, admiring the view; the surge of power she felt watching him stretch and contract obscenely around her. 

"M-move," Pietro ordered, knees scrabbling for purchase as he attempted to change angle. As usual, he never could hold very still. He lowered until his chest was on the bed, spreading his legs wider apart. "Pryde, just-- c'mon--" 

His urgency only widened her smile. Lance often teased that if Pietro hadn't broken down into proper begging, the job was only half done. She gave a partiularly sharp, shallow thrust. 

"Fucking hell, Pryde," came the snarled response. "At least _try_ to hit the prostate. I know you passed anatomy class." 

She had. His helping her study had ensured that. Pietro was actually quite useful to have around for passing classes. Kitty refused to cheat, despite his offers to just write things for her, but he had been an invaluable tutor and rarely complained over her being too slow to educate. 

She gave another shallow thrust. Then, shifting her center of balance and grabbing onto the back of his thighs, began pounding into him at regular intervals; deep enough to fill, but not enough to properly stimulate. "You're being punished, remember?" she reminded him, smiling sweetly.

Pietro swore, long and loud. He hadn't yet begun to swear in Polish, but that was always a favorite, when it came to that. She added a rolling snap to her hips that had him rearing back, taking her to the hilt with a muffled moan. Oh, that wasn't good enough; she wanted him screaming. 

Pulling out, she pushed at his side. "Roll over, baby," she commanded. "On your back. Show me your belly." 

And he did, with perhaps more quickness than he ever followed any sort of order. A flush had spread down his chest, leaving him pink to match his cock, wet and shining and rock-hard between his thighs. Kitty smiled at it; slicked a finger on the underside from tip to base just to make him arch and wriggle and hiss. 

Bending low over Pietro, Kitty nosed at his throat. Kissed him softly, with deliberate slowness. He swore again, hands rising to tangle in her hair, to haul her mouth to his. He attempted to entice her into a frenzy by flicking his tongue into her mouth; sucking her sweet and dirty. Effective, but no cigar.

"Pryde, _please,_ " he breathed, and reached for her hips, then blinked in dismay when she phased out of corporeality. He snatched at nothing but air. 

"My pace, or nothing at all." 

" _Kitty!_ " 

They were both pulled from their bickering by the sound of the front door opening and closing. They glanced at one another, and Kitty stretched to reach her bedroom door, which had been left wide open, when Pietro caught her wrist. "I think I know those footsteps," he hissed. Then, louder, "Lance?" 

"Hey! Guess who got home early?" the third member of their trio called, voice echoing over the wooden floors of their hallway, alleviating Kitty's anxieties that the landlord had randomly decided to stop by for an air vent check. She and Pietro listened to Lance's wheeled suitcase roll after his footsteps into the kitchen; the sound of dry cereal pouring into a ceramic bowl. 

When Pietro caught Kitty's eyes again, she couldn't help but to giggle at the absurdity of their situation. When Pietro reddened, Kitty shifted her hips, causing him to hiss. 

"Color?" she asked quietly, reaching to cup Pietro's face tenderly in her palm. He pouted on reflex, but when her thumb stroked his lips, he tilted his face to kiss her wrist. 

"Green, if you're done being an asshole."

Kitty playfully flicked his nose before bending to kiss it. His erection had flagged in their momentary distraction, so she pulled out once again to kneel on the carpet and encase the tip of Pietro's cock in her mouth. This time, when his fingers found her hair, she allowed it. 

Footsteps approached the room. Jovially, Lance inquired, "you two are being awfully quiet." 

Kitty, her back to the door, knew the moment Lance caught sight of the pair by the abrupt silence. With her mouth full of cock, her hands braced on Pietro's strong thighs, she couldn't watch her boyfriend looking them over, but she could feel his eyes flickering over them both. 

"Huh," Lance remarked, and there was a crunching sound as he munched his cereal. "Looks like I'm interrupting. You two want some privacy?" 

Kitty waved a hand behind her back, at the same time as Pietro remarked, "Feel free to join in." He sounded a little too coherent for Kitty's tastes, so she hollowed her cheeks and tongued at his slit until he gasped for breath. Oral wasn't her favorite, but it got the job done. 

Lance, abandoning his suitcase, let himself in and sank wearily to Kitty's desk chair, moving a few bottles of nailpolish aside to set his bowl down. "Love to," he assured. "But I'm _dead_ tired. Jet lag is such a bitch." 

Kitty raised her head to look him over, noting that he was still wearing his uniform, but Pietro's hands pressed flat to her head, keeping her down. She glowered. 

"Kitty-cat's all strapped up," Lance observed, leering at her harness. 

"We _were_ fucking," Pietro grumped. "I think." 

Kitty, again, phased away from his pressing hands. He was so damn pushy. "No; I was teaching you a lesson for being a butt. If I was 'fucking' you, you'd know it." 

"I'd like to see you try it, Pryde. I'm pretty sure I _almost_ felt something for a second there." 

Lance snorted, rolling his eyes. This was pretty par for the course for his two lovers. He took another pointed bite of cereal as Kitty surged to her feet and began wrestling with Quicksilver, phasing every time he started to get the upper hand in pinning her. 

"Cheater!" 

"As though _you_ have any room to talk!" 

They were grinning, though, when Pietro at last managed to wrap both hands around Kitty's wrists, and she allowed him to lay her flat on the bed, then resisted the urge to shiver when his rather intense blue eyes swept her up and down. That previous molten warmth between her thighs resumed when he made a show of straddling her waist. 

"Color?" Pietro asked, fingertips gentle on Kitty's bare stomach. Both boys were sensitive to how Kitty seldom took well to bottoming. He saw no fear in her eyes now. Quite the opposite; her experssion was very warm as she linked her arms around Pietro's neck, bringing their foreheads together. 

"Green," she promised. "C'mon, baby boy. Come get some." 

Pietro smirked. He gripped the black-and-gold dildo, stroking it as he situated it between his thighs, then carefully speared himself open on its considerable, hefty length. He _was_ beautiful like this, his eyes closed, his body braced. Kitty allowed herself the luxury of admiring him when he began to move, riding her carefully. His knees pressed either side of her ribcage so as not to crush her underneath his weight, so she wrapped her fingers around his ankles for somewhere to hold, rocking up into him. 

Sleep-deprived Lance must have been feeling a similar way. From this angle, lying back on her own bed, Kitty could see him looking rumpled and tired, his long hair twisted into a messy bun on the back of his head. She watched him watch Pietro, his dark eyes soft. When he caught Kitty noticing, he gave her a small smile. 

Her attention was drawn back to her lover when Pietro reached for her, scratching shallowly over her incredibly sensitive stomach. Kitty's head flew back onto her pillow with a gasp, and Pietro took the opportunity to bend lower, bracing his forearms on either side of her head, and suck softly at her throat. She whimpered, turning her face to the side so he could kiss and tug at her ear instead. Deny it all he liked, Pietro was still sweet sometimes. 

Her groin ached and throbbed, empty, and she wondered if it was time to set aside a budget for a strapless strapon; one of the products she'd been admiring online. The kind that provided vibrations for both parties. The straps on this one got in the way of fingering herself; leaving her hollow and achy. 

It wouldn't matter if Pietro kept palming her stomach like that, though. 

Fighting for leverage, Kitty attempted to thrust up into Pietro's willing body, angling and rolling her hips until she heard him gasp, and then working to strike that sensitive place again and again until he forgot to stroke her; couldn't do anything at all but hold onto her headboard and take it. She weaselled a hand in between their bodies and took hold of his pulsing cock, clenching it even as hot fluid poured down her clenched fist. She gave him firm strokes in time with her thrusts until he was keening into her neck, coming hard over them both. 

"Good boy," Kitty whispered, touching her lips to the sweat-dampened silver hair of his temple. " _Good_ boy." 

He shuddered, overwhelmed, and Kitty wound both her arms around him, drawing him down on top of her to hold him, to stroke his back, murmuring reassurances and praises and love into his ear. His come was starting to dry uncomfortably on her chest by the time he had the sensibilities to sit up again and by then, Lance had finished his cereal. 

"You want a turn?" Pietro asked, shaky and unsteady. Kitty considered; shrugged; shook her head. 

"Help me out?" 

He did, rolling her onto her side to unbuckle her harness and sliding it down her legs, tossing it onto their clothes pile on the floor, to be washed later. 

Lance looked about ready to collapse, but he crossed to the bathroom across the hall, dampened a cloth at the sink, and chucked it their way. Kitty cleaned the both of them up as best she could. 

"If you want in my room, s'fine," Lance slurred, already zombie-shuffling off again, stripping off and discarding items of clothing as he walked until he wore only his briefs. 

Kitty and Pietro regarded one another a moment, shrugged, and followed after, though Pietro stuck a hand in Kitty's bureau drawer on his way out and proudly passed her the simplest of her bullet vibrators. 

The three of them slid into Lance's familiar, soft flannel sheets that smelled so comfortingly of him. Lance's room was arguably the most comfortable in the apartment, despite the perpetual mess it was in. They'd invested in blackout curtains to help mitigate his migraines, and a rotating fan kept it several degrees cooler. The king-sized bed held them all easily. 

Kitty gave Pietro a sheepish smile as he pushed her into Lance's arms, them clambered in right after, pressing close. Even three quarters of the way unconscious, Lance was receptive and held them as best he could. His steady heartbeat was the nicest sound in the world. 

"Glad you're home safe," Kitty said sincerely, though Lance, full of cereal, comforted by the presence of his loved ones, had started to drift off the second his head hit the pillow. "We'll talk about your trip when you wake up, okay?" 

"Hrmmm."

Pietro really did know Kitty all too well. No sooner had she settled comfortably when the ache between her thighs made itself known again, and she sheepishly hitched a leg onto Pietro's hip to better situate the powerful tip of the vibrator against her swollen clit. The relief was instantaneous; Pietro leaned in close to swallow her moans with kisses. Lance's fingers pressed a little firmer into her ribs as her hips bucked and rocked. When Pietro sank his teeth lightly into her shoulder, she came with a cry. 

Now it was Pietro's turn to pull her into his arms, to slide slender fingers through her messy hair. 

"Thanks, Kit-Kat," he murmured, and she smiled. 


	6. Lancitty (Wallbanging)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD-era

Sometimes Shadowcat phased during sex. And sometimes, that meant her partner did, too. 

Lance couldn't help but laugh when he found half his body imbedded into the stairwell, Kitty's legs still hooked over his arms, cock buried to the hilt within her dripping cunt. 

"Mmf, what, why'd you _stop_?!" she whined, opening her eyes and frowning petulantly at him. 

"Babe," he said sweetly, and bent to touch his lips to her shoulder. "You did it again." 

"What are you talking about-- oh." How her face reddened, when she realized what had happened to the two of them. Lance, carrying her, took a quick step back, then another, until they were once more out of danger territory. She cleared her throat when Lance gently pulled out of her and set her back on the polished wooden floor of Fury's summer cottage. 

"Sorry," she muttered, and attempted a laugh, though she was clearly embarassed, still. She swept her long hair over her shoulder and avoided her boyfriend's eye. "I just. Did I kill the mood?" 

Lance was quick to shake his head. Though it was rather crude, he gripped his hard cock and looked at her pointedly, until she looked back at him and laughed. "Fair enough, I guess." 

He drew her in close under his arm, though he felt tacky with drying sweat, and touched his lips to the top of her head. "I think it's pretty fuckin' hot, actually," he admitted in her ear, and she shivered. "And how could I judge, anyway? You and Tro keep blaming me for all the cracks in our ceiling..." 

Back in Brotherhood days, he'd been even worse; practically wearing fault lines into the abandoned fields he and Pietro drove out to, just to mess around in. He'd garnered better control, but a particularly wild night was enough to send aftershocks that threatened the foundation of whatever building he and his partners were currently staying in. This far out in the mountains, though, he could probably get away with a little wildness... 

"Let me take you upstairs," he begged, kissing Kitty's ear and catching the lobe between his teeth, tugging. When she hissed between her teeth and nodded, he bundled her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and nuzzling his face into her soft, fragrant breasts, catching a nipple in his lips and flickering his tongue over the tip. 

Kitty whined, carding her hand in his long hair and giving it a sharp tug. "Hurry," she commanded, and he smiled at her bossiness. He didn't dare take the stairs two at a time as he might otherwise have-- between sporting an erection and Kitty's weight in his arms, he'd likely just end up tripping-- but he made good time up to the bedroom they were sharing on this most pleasent of missions. The bed took up the center of the brightly-lit room, covered in a faded yellow quilt. When Lance tossed Kitty onto said bed, her bouncing body made the iron headboard tap lightly against the windowsill. 

Lance wasted no time crawling up the length of the other agent's body, nipping at her calves and kissing each thigh as he settled exactly where he wanted to be. He exhaled a warm breath over her wet pink slit, and she shivered, watching him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to ask permission, but then both her hands settled on the back of his head, attempting to push his mouth into her cunt. 

Lance _laughed_ as he kissed her there. God, she was fun. He nuzzled his nose between her folds, her wiry wet hair scrubbing his cheeks, loving the salty wet warmth of her. His hands kneaded her inner thighs as he lapped softly-- so softly that she whined in impatience, her head throwing back as she pointedly spread her legs further. 

Shoveling his hands under her ass, he lifted her, opening her like a book that he promptly buried himself in, getting his face all kinds of wet as he set to properly devouring his girlfriend like the three-course meal she was. Her heels drummed the mattress uncontrollably and she _wailed,_ hands wrenching at his hair like reins on a stallion. "Lance-- Lance!" 

Would he never tire of hearing her scream for him? 

The headboard was tapping the window with regular frequency as she thrust and squirmed and bucked up into him. He kissed her thigh again and said, hoarsely, "play with your tits for me, baby." 

And oh, she did; cupping them and rolling the hard pink nipples between her fingers. Liquid spurt from her cunt to soak Lance's face and he moaned appreciatively, burying himself back into his work. The sound rumbled through his chest and into the ground, the walls around them; barely perceptible, but Kitty felt it just the same. She nearly wept as she exploded into the first orgasm of the day. Lance's lips closed around the hard nub of her clit, suckling her into oversensitivity. 

She came for what felt like a small eternity, shuddering and arching, before falling still. She was quick to push his face from her oversensitive body, and he crawled back up the bed, kissing her sweetly every few inches. Naval. Sternum. Breasts. Throat. Lips. 

She returned his kiss, tasting herself on his mouth, and he held the back of her head in one of his large hands, admiring how she looked, all fucked out. Her face and chest were firetruck red and her hair was in wild disaray, her lips bitten and puffy, and she seemed to be struggling for breath. When she opened her eyes, he saw how blown-out and dazed she truly was. 

Lance held her close, rubbing circles on her arm with a thumb, waited for her. "I love you so much," he told her softly. "You're so fuckin' sexy, Kitty-cat. So beautiful." 

He meant every word, and when she turned to nuzzle his cheek, he smiled. How lucky was he, to have his two partners, whom he loved more than life itself? And how nice was it, sometimes, to be able to focus so entirely on just one of them like this? To show them how much they really meant to him? 

Kitty's hand pressed to Lance's bicep, her fingers idly tracing the tattoo that wrapped around there, and finally she was able to speak. "You're so good," she whispered, hoarse from all her shouting. "So good to me, Lance... I love you, too. That was amazing." 

Lance, ever keen for praise, snuggled into her chest, brown eyes wide. "You think so?" he asked, and she smiled like an angel. 

"You're a damn good boy, is what you are," she said, and bopped his nose. Lance lit up like the fourth of July, beaming hugely at her. 

"Really?!" 

"Don't think I didn't feel that rumbling, either," she added, teasing a little now that she could breathe again. "I know that was you. Were you trying to make me feel better for the phasing?" 

"A little," he admitted. "But it wasn't any struggle. I always feel like that when you're around." 

Kitty's smile grew. A little clumsily-- it was always hard to move properly after an earthshaking orgasm-- she rolled Lance onto his back and rested a leg over his waist, looking down at him. His stiff erection slid along her ass and her smile turned a little wicked as she regarded him. "What's this?" she teased, reaching behind herself to trace his length with a gentle finger. "All for me?" 

Now Lance was the one flushing; bashful. "All of me is for you," he said earnestly. 

Kitty reached to cup his cheek, his facial hair brushing her fingers. "You're so good to me," she repeated. "You're so sweet." 

It was no difficult task to raise up, to adjust the tip of Lance's cock so that it once again rested at her entrance. They moved slower now, Lance struggling to remain still as Kitty impaled herself on his length, feeling herself expanding around his considerable girth until finally she was seated fully. 

Still sensitive from his mouth, Kitty rode him slowly-- so slowly that he trembled with effort, hips giving tiny, minute jerks in the fight not to roll her over, to pound selfishly into her without abandon. All of him was for her, and she could use him as she liked. 

"You feel so good," she gasped, her hands on his chest for balance. "So-- God, Lance you're so big. Filling me up." 

He covered his eyes with an arm, overwhelmed at just the sight of her, flushed and dewy with pleasure as she took him again and again. His own breathing was growing labored, ragged, and a moan hitched out between his clenched teeth, growing louder as she squeezed around him. His balls were already tight and flush to his body. 

"Kitty," he gulped. "I'm gonna--" 

"You can come in me," she said, eager now, increasing the pace of her bouncing. "I-- I like it. When you do. I like feeling you drip from me for hours." 

Well, _fuck!_ He nearly came on the spot just from that admission alone. Unable to keep still now, he grabbed her by the hips to control her movements, making sure to grind her over his body, her sensitive clit catching on his pelvis as he rocked her back and fourth, pulse skyrocketing as he slammed her down and came hard into her welcoming heat, spilling himself in spurt after spurt. This time, when the walls shook, it was completely unintentional on his part. 

He dropped against the bed, boneless, and offered his mouth for a sloppy kiss as Kitty humped his softening cock, their bodies making slick noises together until she managed a second orgasm. Lance drew Kitty's tongue into his mouth, sucking the tip as she shuddered so hard he feared she might break apart. 

When she collapsed on his chest, he rolled her onto her side, pulling her tight under her chin and living the moment out together. 

"How do you feel, baby girl?" he asked, finally, when words began to make sense once more. 

She smiled at him beautifically, eyes damp. "All of me is for you," she said, repeating his words from before. "I love you so much."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Born's "Electric Love"


End file.
